Friday, March 18, 2011

Too Gentle

I first read the James Kavanaugh poem, "There are men too gentle to live among wolves," in college. It's actually a whole book of poetry, but it was this piece I first learned about. It wasn't in a class, but just in my meandering reading.

It struck me instantly. I knew, even then, that there were men - and women - too gentle for the world. I understood the undertones present, but knew it could be taken at face value and be very meaningful too.

I have been one of the too gentle people at times, and I have been the torturer of them at times. I'm not proud of either.

Why is it that those of us with tender hearts can be so vicious in an effort to not be the most tender-hearted present? Do we think we'll toughen ourselves that way? Or are we just as cruel as those who prey upon us?

So many questions to ponder. But, for tonight, I'm too tired and too overwhelmed, so it will have to wait for another time. Perhaps that's why we never figure it out, because we excuse ourselves from devoting  the necessary effort to it - afraid of what we might discover about ourselves.

This poem has popped into my head a few times lately for various reasons. And as I'm want to do, I thought I'd share it with you since it's on my mind.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
by James Kavanaugh


There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men too gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder them for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who devour them with eager appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove.
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world,
Unless they have a gentle one to love.

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