The assault comes
in little questions
and subtle looks
and sometimes
in the query not posed
as if, seen by all
but invisible to the mirror
a patina
has formed
the ground, it seems
is covered
in egg shells
and you never
said a word
as if by instinct
they knew
You feel dis-eased
inside and out
and somehow
and someway
everyone knows
a language of eye
perhaps posture
of head bowed
however slight
of shoulders stooped
of hands idle
and eyes that just stare
quiet as windows
vacant of a light
conspicuous by its absence
as the lighthouse
not lit
and you fear the sea
not sailed
the waters
not fished
and the mournful lapping
of ocean sympathy
replacing
the deck bell
Invisible visible neon
that's what you are
bright as light at night
loud as lightning in sight
this is your life
changed in an instant
changed in a phone call
and words from a textbook
seem less academic
words I wish not
upon friend or foe
Chapter 7
4 comments:
I hope this is at least partially about the bankruptcy. I'm relating it to administrators having to make tough choices. People are afraid to show in any manner that they are happy to still have a job--for now--because the person next to them may not. If I am wrong, I know you will set me straight.
I wrote this one this morning right after my ex-wife called wanting to know if I would still be able to pay child support now that I was unemployed. That got the ball rolling. The subtle look came from my son when I told him we would not be able to go to San Fran for spring break like we had planned and he said he understood but the look communicated something entirely different as a dagger to my heart. So that's how it started and like all my poems, just flowed from there.
Oh god, I know what that is like, too, on both counts. And you are right...wouldn't wish it on friend or foe. Not that it helps you personally, but I never wanted to be one of those women who sat back and collected which was why I thought I worked out a pretty sweet deal with my ex. He turned out to be the real bitch for a while. Shouldn't say too much... he did learn a few things over the years. We are friendlier acquaintances now. One thing I'm proud of is that my kids did not understand why the fathers in Britain (?) were protesting for more rights. I had to explain that most children of divorce were not able to spend time with both parents and that the dad usually got the shaft. You can pun that if you like, and it would be appropriate. I feel for you. Hang in there. The kids usually figure things out as they grow up.
Hard times, the anguish within palpable. Large is the wish and desire that one could soothe, do something other than read and listen. Sometimes, if only they knew, knew how deep the wells are, but as Lucila wrote they usually come to understand. Moreover, your feelings at having to postpone doubtlessly are significantly greater than the disappointment at cancelled plans, with your heart heavy as it is, more acutely you would perceive response.
I almost didn't say as much for it seems somewhat foolish to state without the backing of veritable reason beyond that of liking, but the alignment right bestows an element to this poem that is not insignificant in regards to impression, those with knowledge might be able to define why that is, but were I to begin deciphering I would do so by saying it has something to do with the physical margins, easy of beginnings, and the wall which up against presently everything is pitched. All stops full at the same time and position. Exceedingly clever what you have done with the hyphenation in the title word, duelling in strength measured equal. So emotive is this piece, simultaneously perturbing and pulchritudinous (whoever invented that word deserves a medal), what one cannot know as other, one feels as personally as can be by the potency of the sentiments within. This is poetry, an obvious statement perhaps, but it is, is poetry, is life through words, is your life through your words, flowing, emotional, artful, personal, expressive, persuasive, affecting, impressive. Poetry. Am so touched. Embracing the words, folding them into my heart, to hold, all that I can do, and the solace of impermanence. Wonderful piece of writing.
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