the meeting.
i bumped into Truth on the subway,
his clothing was ragged and torn,
and he looked with dismay
at Hatred and Rage,
and with pity at Anger and Scorn.
it seems he had left with the world in this mess
and had given up trying to try.
and he gazed up at me,
with this look so serene,
and the tear of Fate caught in his eye.
he had hidden himself in the details
by sealing up all of the doors.
he retreated inside,
just a new place to hide,
far from the violence and wars.
he had lost all his faith in Humanity
and Humanity lost faith in him,
as he started to fear for his sanity,
seeing children abused
and the face of Love bruised
while Ignorance lied on a whim.
’cause he needed a decade to think
and mix it around in his brain.
the Hurt we inflict,
the Evil, the Sick,
the Torture, the Horrors, the Pain.
he returned with a sense of frustration
that no one could help him defeat.
quite unable to find
a Peace in his mind
that would aid his attempts in the street.
see he couldn’t abide by Injustice
and he didn’t find Racism fair
and he just couldn’t see
why someone like me
could’ve found any reason to care.
i bumped into Truth on the subway
and our meeting just doesn’t seem real.
to encounter blind grace
in such a chance place,
that’s made up of concrete and steel.
written by barbie dockstader angell.
11 Responses
It’s been awhile since I read that one. Very good, well balanced. And, very true.
thanks. i guess that means you like the new additions. much appreciated. : )
I always enjoyed the circa 1998 version, and this one feels even more evocative. I’d love to see a side by side. I MIGHT have a copy stowed at home…
The Meeting
I bumped into Truth on the subway,
his clothing was ragged and torn,
and he looked with dismay
at Hatred and Rage,
and with Pity and Anger and Scorn.
It seems he had left
with the world in this mess
and given up trying to try
and he gazed up at me
with a look so serene
and the tear of Fate caught in his eye.
He had lost all his faith in Humanity
and Humanity lost faith in him
as he started to fear for his sanity
seeing children abused
and the face of love bruised
While Ignorance lied on a whim.
See he couldn’t abide by Injustice
and he didn’t find Racism fair.
And he just couldn’t see
how someone like me
could have found any reason to care.
I bumped into Truth on the subway
and our meeting just doesn’t seem real.
To encounter blind grace
in such a chance place
made up of concrete and steel.
Three more quintain stanzas really help to flesh out our good personified friend Truth. Shame that a decade as a shut-in didn’t bring clarity, though I can’t say that I’m surprised. I particularly like “he had hidden himself in the details / by sealing up all of the doors”. I don’t know what doors, but it resonates.
Sounds like a rough subway platform, what with Truth, Hatred, Rage and Scorn hanging about. I don’t know quite what they look like. Perhaps I’ve ridden with them.
i always thought he needed more of a story. i may continue to revamp it, i’m not certain at this point. the original poem took me months to write, maybe that’s why it’s such a favorite of mine and everyone else’s. the amusing thing is that i have never, ever been on a subway. i got the idea talking with my friend michael horn after seeing “mr. holland’s opus”. the first line of the poem was just one of those off-hand comments i tend to make. michael told me to write it down. i am forever in a struggle with paying hommage to truth however, so the poem may never be truly finished.
The subway is worth a go, if only for the experience.
okay, here’s the deal….once the poem makes me some real money, i will come out to chicago and get you and we’ll ride the subway. does chicago have a subway? i know it has the el. “play that again. i want to hear the sound of an elevated train.” – tommy lee jones in “the fugitive”.
My favorite…. and even better.
Chicago has an elevated train that descends into the bowels of the city from time to time. For a true subway experience, it’s NYC. Perhaps I only say that because it was my first, but even still…
then we shall have to hit nyc. in the non-violent sense, of course. we could go to the algonquin hotel while we’re there. : )