Ode to Jorge
It didn't have to be that way
People told me
That you were brilliant
Sometimes there were glimpses . . .
Mostly, I didn't see that
I saw
The pain, the fear, the longing
The justification
The wild and wooly animal like foraging
for a cigarette butt, for a drink, for whatever could take the edge off.
You scared me more and more. I think I felt your fear. I heard it inside my own head.
The reduction to such base instincts.
So gifted, the tales tell. Sometimes we could sense that you were hopeful
but the downward spiral of fear dragged like the unstoppable force of a maelstrom
Swirling around and round and around again until the time
the hands of the clock stop turning
yesterday
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