This Can't Be Art

-- I've been wanting to discuss the idea of how smart people deal with grief as oppose to how people who don't even consider themselves "smart" deal with grief.  Part of this was brought up in "Teach..." and I brought this up a bit in my story at Live Bait this month, inspired by my grandmother, and so I guess I'll dedicate this to her. --

"This Can't Be Art"

So what does she call it?

Does she have a word for it?

Is there a word that says

What that is?

I mean

You should name it

Shouldn't you?

Shouldn't there be a name?

For what it is?

Isn't that your job

As an artist

As a creator

As someone who seeks

To show the world

What they can't name

And then name it?

Shouldn't you have a name?

Before you show it

Why do you get to put it out there?

And then not name it

List it 'Untitled'

And have that be that?

I thought

That you artsy people

Were supposed

To know what to call these things

I thought

That when something bad

Happened to you people

It was easier for you

Because you have so many words

So many words at your disposal

Right in front of you

Words I'll never know

That should mean things

I don't know I'm feeling

Even as I'm feeling them

I look at that painting

And I know she's in pain

I can sense that

In there

Somewhere

But I don't really know where

It's like I'm looking

Into a dark room

And I know there's a person in there

I can hear them sobbing

Begging for help

But I can't tell

Just where they are

And I don't have the capacity

To find them

To find a light

To seek them out with

I don't know what to do

Or how to do it

But she should

She should know

How to help herself

Because she's smart

I'm not smart

I don't know

So much

I don't know

I'm standing here

Looking around

Waiting to see

If I recognize someone

Who feels the same way

Who's confused

And scared

And sick of looking at things

And trying to tell what they are

I don't want to guess

I want to be told

I want someone to say

This is what this is

This is all you need to know

This is what will get you

To the next point

To the next painting

To progress you further

But instead

It's just a gallery

Full of paintings

With no names

Everything I have

Is unnamed

Nothing has a title

Nothing can be called

Nothing can be pin-pointed

So how am I supposed

To make any of it

Go away?

This can't be art

Art is supposed to make you

Understand things

I'm here

I'm surrounded

By art

And I don't understand

Anything

I'm only more confused

Aren't you people supposed to help me?

Aren't you supposed to be the smart ones?

I thought you were different

You write books about how you grieve

You write essays

You write poems

You're so active in it

You grieve so forcefully

How do I do that?

Can you tell me?

I feel like I need to be smarter

I feel like it takes being smart

To know that everything will be okay

But I'm not smart

And I never have been

And there's so much I don't know

And I wanted

Was for one thing inside me

To have a name

I wanted to be able

To call this

By its name