How are you?
You are at peace and perhaps I should apologise for so rudely interrupting your thoughts, your dreams and even mentioning the past. Yet, how could I not say something? Say what I want to say, without acknowledging what happened. How your life came to such an abrupt and violent end, when you were peace. I have been reminded of your quest so many, many times as more and more lives are swallowed up by war and hate and wish you were here. That you could’ve spoken out about what’s been happening in Paris and throughout our world.
Still, not knowing what to say, I’ll keep my words uncharacteristically simple:
After a pause and a few deep breaths, I apologise if I am moving forward too quick but I am writing to you as part of a series of Letters to Dead Poets. Each of these poets has touched my being in some way and I’m extending these moments into something of a journey, a conversation and even a difference of opinion. It turns out, that in so many instances, we don’t see quite eye-to-eye after all and I’ve been seriously challenged by what I am finding out along the way.
Anyway, although there are so many, many questions I could ask, I have a relatively simple request.
Could I please borrow your glasses?
I’d like to see the world through your eyes. See your vision. I know it wouldn’t be the same but I wish I could see better. Have your x-ray vision straight through the surface and into the soul.
Indeed, isn’t it ironic that someone short-sighted had such remarkable insight? Could view things unseen, hidden deep inside the soul and somehow unravel them. Explain those intangible inner mysteries the rest of us can’t even begin to perceive.
How did you do it? What made you who you are? Why weren’t you just like any other John?
Do I really want to know?
Or, would seeing through your eyes ultimately have me walking in your shoes and indeed paying the ultimate price?
Can I really afford to take that chance?
Or, would I be better off simply driving Mum’s taxi and sticking to the local roads and not venturing beyond the comfort zone?
These are not simple choices for me, especially as something tells me that I already left the main road a long, long time ago. That once you have know the road less travelled, there is no turning back.
Thank you so much for being there. Not only now, but throughout my life. I still remember my Dad playing The Beatles on our recorder player as a child. Both of my parents were among the screaming crowds at Sydney Stadium when The Beatles famously toured Sydney back in 1964. They didn’t know each other then but they were there.
There are so many, many memories shared along the long and winding road cut painfully short.
I know it is no exaggeration to say, that all the world also wishes you were here, especially your beloved.
Indeed, Yoko Ono tweeted a photo of your blood-splattered glasses on what would have been your 44th Wedding Anniversary along with these very grim statistics about gun deaths in USA:
Over 1,057,000 people have been killed by guns in the USA since John Lennon was shot and killed on 8 Dec 1980. twitter.com/yokoono/status…
31,537 people are killed by guns in the USA every year. We are turning this beautiful country into war zone. twitter.com/yokoono/status…
— Yoko Ono (@yokoono) March 20, 2013
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that your glasses bore the scars of your death, although I didn’t know. Perhaps, I should retract my request and yet your glasses were but a symbol. A way of my expressing my desire to be a better person and a more compassionate and empathetic human being.
Love and best wishes,
PS: I apologise for viewing you through my own rather rosy-coloured glasses and perhaps forgetting your humanity, your faults and mistakes along the road. It’s just that you could express things so succinctly, that it’s easy to forget the realities of living and how difficult it truly is to for anyone to truly walk the talk.
Indeed, my kids are currently on school holidays and I’m busy talking to you when i should be entertaining them. Yet, I’ve fallen into the reflections of my reflections and am struggling to connect with the world I’m in. I’ve somehow wondered into Wonderland but am wanting to explore as much as I can and write it all down before I return to the real world. Before the door is locked and there is no return. You can not ignore the muse.