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The Legacy
Vivian Shares Poem for April 18th

When Vivian read Getting Stoned with Savages, it prompted her to think for herself about times that she would like to escape.      
Sometimes I Too Want Escape
Sometimes I too dream of escape
To a place where all my worries
Will fall prey to the wind,  to be carried off,
Like paper, and land in some native of Vanuatu's kava bowl
No doubt to become slowly digested and aid in some euphoric illusion
There it will stay in the bowels of the beast
While I float away on a boat not a care to guide me
Just a boat grazing over shark infested waters
Yes, I too dream of escape
Like the author of Getting Stoned with Savages
I wish to flee this chaotic world, sheathed with outer beauty, wealth, and fame
When I think of my mother, working two jobs to provide
And yet two is still not enough
When I think of my absent father, and all the parents like him
When I think of the madness, shootings, and Black- Friday
When I think of the American dream
Said to belong to all, yet attained by few
That is when I dream of escape
When I think of losing everything I've accomplished, I've worked for
Because the game played is one I’m not familiar with
This way of life is, in many ways, suffocating
Air pollutions, smoothie infusions,
An island of dank, putrid plastic,
United Bank and New York traffic,
Warming globe, painted toes,
Religious opinions, very very ripe onions
The list could go on, but then,
I fear, carpel tunnel would be added to my humble list
When thoughts like these plague my mind
I began to dream of escape
Civilizations formed in countries threatened by volcanoes and sharks
May not have the same throttling, modern stresses experienced by Americans,
However the cannibalism formed by lack of meat on islands like Malekula
Were just the cherry on top of an already idealistic and tranquil society
When one thinks of the way in which boys become men on islands such as Malekula
Stripped from their mothers, ritualistically, circumcised
Then pelted with heaps of silicon dioxide
One can truly see the understanding and wisdom the natives acquired
Through life’s great experiences
Reflecting back as a child
I always found sand very comfortable and entertaining
I’m sure their memories are reproduced with the same soothing warmth
Why would they ever dream of escape?
These thoughts bring me back to something
I heard when I was young
With life experiences just waiting to be discovered
“The grass isn’t always greener on the other side”
The discovery of this serendipitous quote of wisdom
Lead me inevitably to another query
I wondered what circumstances would lead a person
To feel they needed to abandon their life
And find another home elsewhere
Remnants of the answer I’ve found in my own life
Which has on occasion, generated dreams of escape
For some escape is what takes them away from there
Worldly woes,
However, some are thrusted out of the exciting and bizarre
To be confronted with responsibility and reason,
I can only imagine having to depart from the fantasy dipped
Bowl of kava, to be revived by a third presence in your family
Reality soaks in and escaping is no longer feasible
Americans, like the author and his wife
Want to leave the world they know and discover a fresh new
Place, one disconnected from society and yet they discover
Although there is beauty and ability for random adventure, death is a constant
That is the one occurrence on this planet
To which there is no escape
Ironically the author is an escapist that frequently
Evades death itself, despite his brilliant attempts to search it out
Escape, in the author Martin Troost’s perspective
Is a way of sub-consciously knowing the life,
That you live presently, is not sustaining,
And there is a great need for change
When comfort’s profit is lost in a person’s life and they are
Limited to only surviving, often they will escape
From their world, in the thoughts swirling in their mind
Thinking, Dreaming, Wishing
Do you sometimes dream of escape?
An entire culture built on the rim of
Of a volcano, ready, at any moment, to spew flesh searing,
Blood boiling lava into the atmosphere
And yet, even if they had the ability to leave would they?
Grass inhabiting their islands is green—fertile
Grass surviving American lawns is— sepia toned olive color
The green is most assuredly greener,
However whether or not the life it offers is better is a matter of opinion
It is a game of chance
Could be good, and could be horrendous
However sometimes I too want escape
From various events in my life
Memories I prefer to forget and leave behind
Like the never traceable luggage at the airport
When I had to leave my birthplace to find a better life
When I was homeless
When my parents got divorced
When my mother had to work a great deal to support the family
When I inherited more responsibility, because of our circumstance
At these times I dreamt of escape often
However, as I have progressed through life
I have realized the depth of learning and wisdom I acquired through these experiences
And I would trade them for no other
I left my birthplace but I found Minnesota—a wonderfully beautiful place
I was homeless—but not without my family
My parents got divorced—but it freed my mother, brother and I
My mother works hard because she loves, and would do anything for me
I have more responsibility but now I am responsible
I would not escape the experiences that taught me so much
Through life I have learned you cannot escape every experience or hindrance
Walking past you at sixty miles per hour,
Sometimes you have to park your butt on the sidewalk
And hope that when it hits you like a cyclone
You will land, unscratched in the leaves of a banana tree
But no matter what happens
There will always be someone there
To assist in your detachment and detangling
Because of this, I feel no need to worry—I feel no need to escape
Not anymore—just to learn and adapt
I can see why one would want to escape
I have experienced it
I can see why someone would want to stay, and live there life
The way in which it happened to be
I understand the author, Martin Troost, finding his place in a distant land
Discovering our world—and himself
I understand and respect it
Because sometimes I too dream of escape