What can poems do? They can say. They can remember. They can name. (Read Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem “Paul Robeson”). I wrote the below poem this morning, because it is upsetting to see someone in need, and feel like there is nothing you can do, nothing you can give them to ease where they are. This person’s mental agitation was high, and they did not want food, and did not know where they wanted to go (which I did not expect/anticipate, and I should have allowed for this possibility—but so often folks want a ride to the bus station, which is such a gentle ask). Sometimes all you can give another human is water, and it doesn’t feel great. To be someone with mental health needs, and medication and therapy, and to see someone who needs exactly the same—it sucks. In the very least, give water. In the very least, listen.
Ugh, I feel this so much. I've found the neighbors I give water and rides to to be especially vulnerable lately, as if the last person to drive by has been especially cruel or something? Thank you for naming this.
Thanks for this comment, Emrhys. 💜 Yes to the especially vulnerable note—I would like to find out how to better assist, who to call, what are the resources.
Ugh, I feel this so much. I've found the neighbors I give water and rides to to be especially vulnerable lately, as if the last person to drive by has been especially cruel or something? Thank you for naming this.
Thanks for this comment, Emrhys. 💜 Yes to the especially vulnerable note—I would like to find out how to better assist, who to call, what are the resources.
Meaningful words ---thank you.