Et tu, Brute?

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Sticks and stones are hard on bones.
Aimed with angry art,
Words can sting like anything,
But silence breaks the heart.
~Phyllis McGinley, Pulitzer Prize-winning American author of children’s books and poetry

You

Fooled me.

Or maybe

I fooled myself.

Earnestly craving

A peaceful atmosphere,

I acquiesced to many

Of your suggestions, traded dreams,

And hoped we’d never experience

Long, lonely years of silence between us.

***

But something happened — what, I’m just not sure —

And here we are, stuck in this cold war.

No talking. No contact. Nothing,

When I’d hoped for so much more.

It hurts to realize

You’ve hardened your heart

And just don’t care

Anymore.

Okay,

Fine.

 

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree. “Et tu, Brute” were Caesar’s dying words in Shakespear’s play Julius Caesar to his friend Brutus, who sided with a clique to assassinate the ruler.

12 thoughts on “Et tu, Brute?”

  1. Debbie, your words hit home for me when it comes to “certain” family members. I’ve long since let go of them, not allowing their passive aggressive and negative behavior affect me. They taught me a great lesson – family does not necessarily mean “family.”

    Well written, my friend! You have such a gift with words!

    Have a super Sunday! X

    • Thank you for understanding, Ron. You’re so right — family doesn’t necessarily mean “family.” We don’t get to choose our family; maybe that’s why friends are so important. They often “get” us in ways our family just can’t.

      I’m sorry something like this happened to you, too. I wouldn’t wish this kind of heartache on anybody! I guess it’s true what my dad used to say: What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger. And provides *some* of us with interesting fodder for our writing, ha!

      I hope you’re enjoying the cool front we sent you. It’s been incredibly gorgeous here for several days, giving Monk and me plenty of time for outdoor fun. Enjoy the week ahead! xx

  2. Look at you! Such a great poem, on a tough subject. Of course I grew up with “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” I’d never heard this revision by McGinley, and it’s a good one. Your way of using it as a jumping off point is great.

    On the other hand, sometimes silence is the best response. I’ve been contacted by a couple of people from my past: people I’d not heard from in decades who wanted to reestablish a connection. I suspect they might have experienced my silence in the way McGinley wrote of, but that, as Ron suggests, wasn’t my problem.

    • I’m glad you liked my effort, Linda, and I thank you for telling me. I hadn’t heard this version of the “sticks and stones” either, and I found it oh-so-true.

      There’s something just plain wrong about these stony silences. Maybe, if everything has been said and the parties have agreed there’s no chance for a peaceful relationship, silence is the better part of valor (or something). But Life is short, and those who part ways bitterly can’t know when it might become too late to make amends — and gee, I’d sure hate to be the one stuck with that kind of guilt!

  3. This is wonderful, Debbie. My sister wrote poetry and this is one I think she would have loved. It really speaks to me.

  6. Silence does break the heart, especially if we thought the relationship was good and can’t understand why it cooled off. To me, your poem perfectly highlights the pain of estrangement. You do have a way with words, even with such a distressing subject.

    • Thanks so much, Barbara. I’m glad you found it pleasing, despite the nature of the subject. I guess we all go through unpleasant relationships at one point or another, but nothing prepares you for the pain of sudden silence.

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