a lonely poem

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

I love the imagery of this poem, the idea of the drowning man frantically gesturing for help as his friends happily wave from the shore, oblivious to his struggles. And I love the emotion and the implication of the pair of lines "I was further out than you thought" and "I was much too far out all my life" - many of his pleas went unanswered because they weren't recognized for what they were. When I feel isolated or lonely I always think of the phrase not waving but drowning because it perfectly encompasses that conflict between wanting to force myself out of isolation by being extra-friendly, and feeling too overwhelmed to make the effort unless someone else meets me halfway.