The Business of Face Saving

I'm working on finishing up my final project for my conflict resolution strategies class.  I am making what is called a zine with a few of my old poems and poetry art and a brand new poem that I wrote called The Business of Face Saving. A lot of times in conflicts, we're so busy thinking about ourselves, that we don't do what is necessary to end the conflict; thereby making it only worse.  So--I wrote a poem about saving face, and some problems with that...

I Walk the winding streets of winter cold,
My bones wince at the people passing by
Overly concerned with saving face;
Only when forced to confess, of course.

Pulling my pocket around front
To seize a smoke to hide behind
The painted pain draped upon my face;
A headline scrolls across the screen
In the display window, downtown:

It says, "A sea of sympathy floods
Boston Streets, a loss of limb'n life;
Exploded from brothers saving face-
An echo of unchecked rejection;
Saving face, turns deadly yet again."

Sometimes death is silent, like blue skies
Unnoticed, a loaded fist behind
Closed blinds, or a broken heart on a
Saturday night --severed to save your

Own dignity. Saving face instead
Of braking down and stepping up; lock
n'load like The Terminator on the big screen;
Saving face instead of saving me

From a life without you, forever-
more or less.  I'll be waitin' inside
The Ben 'n Jerry's walk-in freezer;
Face saving on ice--creamed like coffee
made weak, falling within and without.