a poem for Helen from her friend Hugh

For Helen Pavlin

I didn’t like you at first:

Your face vividly displayed

Your dismay, your disapproval

(Of me? I wondered.)

I would think that,

Wouldn’t I, since

That was exactly how

So many people react

To me, affronted

That I wear my heart

On my face?

Then I started

To see who you really were.

You had standards--

Old fashioned, picky ones,

They’d say today—

But what a relief

To find someone else

Who knew where the

Commas should go,

Who understood

That you couldn’t

Trail a participial clause

Like that!

You got your Minutes done

With speed and accuracy

(You didn’t leave them

For a year, or try

To get someone else

To do them for you.)

And when you spoke

You always had something

Worthwhile to say.

And then we found

You wrote poems too—

Poignant reminders

Of pain and marginal

Existences, stinging

Rebukes to the System

We’d all suffered under,

Words caringly arranged,

Sensitively chosen,

Forged in the fires

Of anger and empathy—

Not so different

From Social Work

Really.

And so you became

A friend at a distance,

A continuing presence

In our lives, your

Loyalty comforting

In our isolation

Your integrity bringing

Reinforcements to

Our war of attrition

Against pompous,

Petty tyrants.

And now, tears

Come unbidden

At the thought that

Your fiercely caring,

Fiercely intelligent

Life may end sooner

Than either of us

Expected.

Heroines of helping

Don’t get remembered

Like the heroes of Gallipoli

But, Helen,

When we gaze at the sunset

From our Western window,

Or see the sky brighten

Over Blackheath with the dawn,

We’ll remember you.

Hugh Crago, October 20 2009.