Not Waving But Drowning

A poem by Stevie Smith.
 Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
- Stevie Smith
We don't need to look far to see this drowning.

People drown within feet of help.

In life most things are the opposite of what they appear.
At the corner of Social and Commerce, life and living takes place.
Or it is being lost with help a few feet away.

This isn't an easy thing to consider.

You see at the heart of life and living everything is not as it would seem.
Consider this and may wisdom be given to you regarding it.

Let me tell you a story...
When I was just a kid living in Belfast, Northern Ireland. We had some off beat characters.
Today they are called street people, homeless, or worse.
As is often the truth, they are the drowning from another event.
Often a war, or a trauma in their lives.

One man, we kids called him "Slasher" due to the arm waving motion he exhibited when seem by people.
We thought he was warding us away. Who really knows what he was gesticulating or meaning by it.

But one day...
He was walking by the door to my home in Moores Place, Sandy Row.
My Mother often fed the neighbor soup and the like on a regular basis.
He lived in a terrible conditions, right next door to us.
Ours were not that much better, but we had each other, soap and water, which our neighbor it seemed did not.

Anyway...
I called "Slasher" over and asked him if he had eaten today. He slashed the air and told me he was hunger.
He did this by gesturing with his hands of an invisible bowl and spoon he was moving back and forth from his bowl to his mouth.
That was it.

I asked my Mother if we could give him something to eat. Like soup.
My Mother was taxed by me at the best of times, but she put some soup on for "Slasher."

He stood at my doorway, not much but home, in the inner city reaches of a troubled town, and slurped his soup.
Without much more than a knowing look and an open handed return of the bowl he was gone.
I however was changed.

I could see men like him everywhere.
Invisible to those who did not seem to see anything.
All before colour TV, Video, Gameboys, the Internet, pocket computer phones and more.

That is were I come in...
You see I am a misfit.
My career has been one of testing many things.
Only to be moved on by circumstances and events often well beyond my control or influence.
Frustrating and hard to come to terms with.
But this was to be my lot in life.

As I grew, and my mind began to wrestle with the things of life: God, purpose, meaning of things I faced,
War, Death. Poverty.
I began the search.
Oh! I searched.
But meanwhile I was not waving. I was drowning.
Seven years in the Royal British Navy led me to consumption of all kinds of alcohol.
Lots of it.

I was drowning, and not waving. But no one could see this.
Except for a few, those necessary few who pulled me up and out of the waters I was drowning in.
At my peak drowning moment, 19 years of age.
I was thrown the lifeline.

And..

I learned how to be a life guard.
What kind of life guard I am I cannot say. But I strive to be a good one.
I've paid my dues in the waters I have come across around the world.
Here I am.

Eventually I came to find my place.
This place of helping.
This site my life ring.
This work of being a life guard.

Here I show you both the wants of life, like an income and friends.
But,