They did this for any number of years

Woods sculpture, left ensemble, drawing with reed pen by William Eaton, Sep 2018 - 1They did this for any number of years.

She would tell him, often with tears,

She was suffering—at her job, in her

Personal life. He would say or try

As diplomatically as possible . . .

“Were it me, . . . maybe to find I would try . . .


A good therapist.” She then managed

To get angry at him. “I’m not damaged!”

Was one of her lines. That is, she was

Not damaged like he was. She did not help

Need like he did. So he—suffering less?—

Went silent. Until, after months without help


She’d be back. She was suffering at her job,

In her personal life. For years, she sobbed,

And he—damaged?—too gentle of mind? . . .

Absorbed the accusations that came his way,

Trying, afterwards, to chase them from his mind.


Some people spend their lives this way.


— Poem and drawing by William Eaton

Oops, didn’t realize I had already published this poem on 18 May 2018. The brain deteriorates, life goes on?


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