Lenny

A poem I wrote about my husband last week, if anyone's been misunderstood, it's him.

He is a man unlike any other I have met.

The years have grown his hair long and added
a tall natural walking stick to his accessories.
Straw hat, fedora, cowboy hat, cap - he wears them all with distinction,
Changing character each time he reaches for a different prop.
He is troubadour, prophet, artist, pilgrim, clown-
Everything this culture doesn't understand and barely tolerates.

In the morning he is as likely to perform spontaneous stand-up routines
As he is to get lost in Einstein's physics, night terrors or
sudden bursts of grieving.
He has played villain and hero on stages and in his life,
One character offering a shady deal,
And the other a path to redemption.
He has stopped a charging dog with a word,
Paddled across a flood to rescue people on the roof.
He has been known to juggle eggs in the kitchen,
Or get into a hot tub fully clothed,
Just to make me laugh.

He can lay hands on your leg and tell you
If you fractured it in a recent fall, even if there is no outward sign.
He can hold the head of a traumatically injured woman
As if he has studied how to save her life.
He can bind wounds that will not stop bleeding
Until he is there,
And stop flood waters from rising with prayers of mercy.
He will walk among the invisible in your city,
And learn their names and stories,
If only to convince them someone cares.

In his heart, laden with sorrow, two mechanical valves
Keep time like clocks ticking.
They mark the damage to a vessel of sacrifice and love.
He has seen too much and felt too deeply
To rest in the silence we often invite
For respite and peace.
When he plays the harp
(Harmonica to those who do not know the blues)
You experience a bursting forth of every longing thought and feeling
Reaching you across the room.
Longing that reaches back centuries,
That has always been with us,
And probably always will be.

When you meet him, you don't know the details of his unique character.
You hear his resonant voice, see the sparkle in his blue eyes,
Might get annoyed that he talks so much,
Makes friends with Bank tellers and cashiers, which slows things down,
Is bigger than life.
You don't know the guilt he carries,
The guilt of every wrong choice most of us would forget,
In a mind that plays stories over and over again
Until they beat him down for a time.

You get to know him slowly,
Over years of corny jokes and narratives of his life.
Even after hearing it all,
You still have not touched the heart of who he is.
Be in a car with him as he insists on stopping to
Respond to any calamity,
Or walk with him through the woods as he plays his handmade flute,
And you are getting closer.
Watch him lift a wounded bird from where it's fallen,
Willing it to live, with his touch,
Or come home to him wailing face down in the middle of a meadow,
Pleading for a war he cannot stop,
And you see a bit more of his soul.

You will still be confused by his continual chatter about this and that,
Skimming along a surface you know he does not skate on
When his waters run so deep.
When he was much younger,
Standing by as one of those who tried to stop the war-trains from running,
He was a wanderer, one who could not be tied to a house
That kept him from being in the midst of dangerous times.
The wanderlust has never left his soul.
He travels now around the block, on buses, cross-country,
Always a destination in mind.
But really, the destination is an excuse
To remember who he is,
To travel where his intuition or the spirit leads.

I want you to know him,
But that will take a lifetime
He has already spent by my side.
So you must take my word for it,
This man is your most cherished friend.

Author's Note

Since the writing spigot turned on, I've been a bit obsessed. Lenny gets obsessed too with his music and art, so I don't feel too badly. One day last week, I looked up, and there he was silently, and not so silently, cheering me on. I write love songs to him, but never poems, and that night as I looked at him, I asked myself, "who is this man who believes so much in me?" This writing spilled out.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked this poem. Honest tone described good person and life. I liked the feel of being content and liking someone. The poem is amazing and beautiful. Thank you Marianne for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[Marianne Rose]

Thank you Coyote, for your review and reactions. Yes, there is contentment here, and always another day of adventure. You would like Lenny I think- he is an old soul like your old wise man.

[Coyote Poetry]

He is lucky too. Take a wise person to appreciate the person who loved them.

[Peter Rogerson]

Thanks for sharing your deep love for your troubadour. From the glimpses you've shown into his life I feel I would really like him.

[Inject Positivity]

I bet you are one of the luckiest ladies who have the real hero in their life... I'm just feeling awed and so much melted by the loving way you showed your beloved husband's character... I can picture the man, a man with blue eyes and a heart of generosity, compassion, passion, determination, love, kindness and trust... This poem is not a tribute to me actually, it is a poem that is bearing a Heart's thoughts about her husband... I read so many poems on dedication to their lovers, husbands but I can tell you this one will stick with me for the rest of my life... I am actually now a fan of your husband, I admire those great human beings who are the symbol of true humanity...

All I can say you guys are amazing... Your husband is someone special and you are his well deserved life long companion... God bless both of you...

Sincerely
Dhiman

[Marianne Rose]

Thank you Dhiman for your heartfelt response, and your clarity- yes, he has always been my hero, and he's the first to say I saved his life. Funny how it works- save one life, and that one goes on to save many others. We both have our Achilles heels of course, our failings and faults. But the soul- when it has a chance to shine through and motivate our actions is pretty amazing and magical. If we could all recognize each other, it would be such a magical world. Thank you for saying the very kind things you do- you have no idea how it encourages me!

[Teddybearlee]

This is one of the most touching tributes to someone else I have thus far read. How many people, whether spouse or not, can see that deep in to someone else, of course, the real question is, how many people can see depth or care too, a treasure long lost for most, yet one of the integral parts of a relationship. Very lovely, he sounds like quite the man, quite the mystery to those that don't take the time to get to know him, but quite the treasure to those that do. This is actually quite stunning to me, to see someone use such a unique way of describing another soul without the basic words I so commonly fill my writing with. Very nice indeed.

[Marianne Rose]

Thank you! Lenny's comment when I posted this was that people were going to say, "wow, I didn't know you wrote fiction too!" But, as he knows, it's all true. How many treasures are hidden away under our protective exteriors? I imagine there are a lot of unsung heroes out there. Thank you for sending such a thoughtful and caring review.

[Ana Papaya]

I hope you have a long happy life together! I'm sure there are treasures under my nose somewhere. The last gem I picked up turned out to be broken glass though... What you have is rare.

[Ana Papaya]

Wonderful to have someone who believes in you. :)
Lovely words and thoughts.

[Marianne Rose]

Yes it is! Even better when two people believe in each other. Thanks for taking the time to read and review this lengthily tribute!