Tom Turner (Seattle, June 12, 2000) — Image by kenne
Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats
Ah poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats,
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me,
(For what is my life or any man’s life but a conflict with foes,
the old, the incessant war?)
You degredations, you tussle with passions and appetites,
You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds the
sharpest of all!)
You toil of painful and choked articulations, you meannesses,
You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shallowest of
any;)
You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother’d
ennuis!
Ah think not you finally triumph, my real self has yet to come
forth,
It shall yet march forth o’ermastering, till all lies beneath me,
It shall yet stand up the soldier of ultimate victory.
— Walt Whitman
Tom sent this Whitman poem to me the day before my 65th birthday — “I knew you would like it.”
He was correct!
I’ve always loved this Whitman and so glad you brought it back for me. Makes me think of all Kuyk’s struggles for so many years and how valiantly he fought to be thoroughly alive every day he was able to stay with us. I think of death as The Great Vanishing. It’s just so hard to accept even when you feel you should have been prepared for it. Peace, Little Brother.
I was not prepared.
<3
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
Today would have been brother Tom’s 75th birthday — we miss him very, very much!
kenne