David Floren

Pride Eschews Crutches

A crutch wedged in a thankful pit,
Close-gripped with a knurled fist
- Suspension bridge of pure grit -
Each reached plank, a pearled day.

Each early stride, a kept pledge
To un-scar an old, unkempt waddle,
Like forswearing the old booze bottle,
From near plank to far ledge.

Far below a thankless pride
Stokes dank and orange grudges,
Declining all crutches for gorges.
Thus it, with itself gorged, trudges.

The earthen lip of the far ledge beckons
To this wrecked boy. (Our days are few.)
“I'll use what I have, ” he reckons,
'Now and through my final seconds.”

[2-8-05 Santa Rosa, CA (revised 1-29-08 Livermore, CA) ]

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Poem Edited: Wednesday, January 30, 2008

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Comments about Pride Eschews Crutches by David Floren

  • Mj Lemon (1/29/2018 5:55:00 PM)

    Really thought provoking. Indeed, the title and the verse suggest what is so true for both the metaphorical and literal crutches. And what you say about pride, so true. I can also relate anger and fear. Those people who always complain about their literal and/or metaphorical crutches, so much needed yet eschewed, ought to read this work. That valley of pride is waiting to consume anyone who does fall. A really great poem, David.

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  • David FlorenDavid Floren (2/7/2008 8:19:00 PM)

    Thanks for your comments. In this poem I'm anthromorphizing unrefined pride as a creature that eschews crutches (and all forms of help from other people and things) because it can not stomach the idea of 'being helped.' It's a hyper-individualistic pride I'm dealing with here. This is why I have it get itself stuck in the nasty chasm. It won't use the footbridge to cross over to the future (and progress) because, unlike the boy who's thankful for the crutch, it absolutely loathes help from outside. In consequence of eschewing help, it will spend its remaining days rotting down in its dank pit of gloom. Whereas crutch-boy will trudge onward and upward. He'll 'get by with a little help from [his] friends, ' and I don't mean recreational drugs per se!

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  • Gary Witt (2/7/2008 6:53:00 PM)

    I was drawn by the title. We are all certainly ashamed of our visible crutches-those we see and of which we are aware. But the poem got me thinking about those crutches that we use and rely upon without really being aware of them. We are in denial as to their very existence. And pride, in fact, does not eschew them. Instead, pride almost necessitates them. Or, at the very least, 'enables' them (ironically enough) .

    A thought-provoking piece. Thank you!


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