In The Open Fields Poem by RIC BASTASA

i met when you were just a boy
holding on to your mama's skirt
who believes in your innocence: shy,
tiny hands, naughty eyes somehow
hovering from one face to another,
i detect significance,

the next thing i know is your nervous
breakdown,
i guess, and i am right,
that inability to accept a failure
is apparent,
you retreat to a room
talking to yourself
this genius in you
that cannot be defeated
you cover your face with the pages
of an engineering book
devising your own formula
for the world
that pushes you to an edge
and against a wall
so thick
chokes you

you struggle for breath
the windows are closed.

the news arrives, you took your own life,
i am not shocked
people who feel that this world does
not deserve their
precious presence
kill themselves
leaving them their own
guilt
as they pray for your repose
that you may have
eternal life,

which i think surely,
you now have.

sail on, do not wait for us,
we are still figuring things out
in the open
fields.