Sunday, July 17, 2011

Off The List

Off the list
No more parties for you
Unfriended, blocked, unwelcome

A subtle rejection
Quiet and sneaky, perhaps
Why declare it with words?
Better to play it safe
Fly under the radar
It's not like you were UN-INVITED
The possibility of inclusion never even existed
There were no expectations to dash
No feelings to hurt, now were there?

If you had just conformed to the herd
Went along with the sheep instead
But you were a mere lamb, and a lame one at that 
You needed slaughtering
It had to be done, you see
For you were born of the dark ewe
And the ram with the broken prongs.
Foolish of them really
To think they could hide you from the sacrifice.

Don't take it personally, though
No offense intended
Just know that you will not see your name
On the list, ever again.

Party on!


  1. Dear Andrea--

    Your poem is really good. I write poetry sometimes too and it helps. Here's one I wrote after my son's dx;


    Nothing personal, Billy Joel

    but if I ever hear

    that peppy song again

    about how only the good die young

    I might just shoulder a pick axe

    and walk from Seattle to NYC to





  2. Very well written. Sad. Reminds me a bit of The Crippled Lamb, one of my all-time favourite Christmas books to read to my class.

  3. Ah yes,

    The frequent cruelty of the sheeple
    Wielding a power of exclusion
    Actual or virtual or merely threatened

    We are kept from seeing the world beyond
    By a wool that covers our eyes
    but can not keep out others' pain

    Which is our pain turned inside out
    In a world only apparently separate
    And not quite together either

    Consumed with concern
    To avoid needless cruelty
    We feel an urge to avert and quell

    The delusion of which is only
    Realized when pain is felt
    With an awakened heart

    And the wise ones remind us
    With a kindness that truly sees
    That nothing is to do but rest

    July 20, 2011

  4. Thanks for sharing this.

    The discomfort of the poem made me fabricate all sorts of stories to avert my own pain and try to quell yours.

    Yet when all is said and done, there is nothing to do but rest.

    I'm sorry you had to go through such pain.

    July 19, 2011

  5. Actually Ellen, quite like you trying to avert other's pain, this is about one of my sons, not me. But he's almost oblivious to the incident since he's a kid and can just live in the moment. May we (so called) adults all find such a place to rest.

    Thanks, Ellen,


    July 19, 2011

  6. Dear Wanda (Andrea),

    Thank you for your powerful poem.

    Exclusion is a form of violence.

    Subtlety makes it no less deadly.

    And righteousness makes it worse.

    There is tremendous suffering out there because of using this unfortunate and primitive response to deal with disowned discomfort. Not only kids do it.

    July 24, 2011