poem is between Picasso face and “Land of Morning Calm” flyer
The Rest
by Lawrence Raab
You’ve tried the rest.
You’ve waited long enough.
Everything catches up with you.
And you’re too old,
or too young.
Or you don’t have the money
or you don’t have the time.
Maybe you’re shy, and maybe
you’re just afraid.
How often have you heard it,
have you promised
yourself you’d try
something really different
if you had the chance?
Though you can’t help but wonder
if all those people
know what they’re doing, now
you’re saying it with them:
Eventually everything
catches up with us,
and it starts to show.
We’ve waited all our lives, or as long
as we can remember, whichever
is long enough.
I pinned Lawrence Raab’s “The Rest” on a bulletin board at my local post office. This poem depresses me, it feels heavy in spite of Raab’s expert light touch. But I’ve gotten Raab really wrong before, so I leave it to you. Hopeful or hopeless? Or am I asking the wrong question?
From a previous post:
Lawrence Raab was born in Pittsfield, Massachusetts in 1946. He went to Middlebury College and earned his masters from Syracuse. He’s taught at University of Michigan, American University, and these days at Williams College. He’s one numerous awards and grants and has published seven collections of poetry. This poem, “Marriage,” comes from his 1993 collection What We Don’t Know About Each Other.
Raab has also written screenplays and adapted Aristophanes’ The Birds for theater.
