'making way through my flickering mantra' I have a choice... Holy Shit. I woke my husband at 6:50am to make him listen so I could read this out loud. Is this where I call my shrink and end the relationship, or is this where I humbly beg for MORE MORE MORE! Awesome Stuff Woman
i am so so glad you enjoyed it this much! with poems like this it's a convoluted relationship, because you can't say you 'like' darkness, suffering, brutality= but you can like telling the truth, and what i call the 'accidental truths' that poetry tells, where the words come together and reveal something you didn't even mean to...
I don't understand every line in this poem, but I identify with the trauma and the emotion. There are things we don't ever forget, and slimy feelings, even after the disconnect by choice, or the physical death of the father, but we do survive. This poem makes me want to cry. I have moved past quite a bit, but poems like this are a reminder. My heart goes out to you.
There are many lines that stand out, and the poem as a whole, has a major impact:
"bullets lodge in body's private spaces, beyond removal."
"making way through my flickering mantra: i have a choice."
"tiny violence- i am in control of this mutilation."
"oh my darling, you were lost and gone forever why can't you stay missing? i killed you enough."
"... only the thin bloody line of paper cut lies between your signature and my survival."
Especially after a family visit, as an adult, I used to wake up every morning with a metaphorical baseball bat, poised to strike, but I never hit, because I am not that man. Now, after death, the baseball bat does not return unbidden, but I recall it sometimes, just to check the current state of my emotions.
It is not only his death that brought a measure of peace. I made the right choice and did not see him for over twenty years. But, my mother became ill, unable to travel, and if I was ever to see her again, I had to see him. Toward the end, he redeemed himself a bit, expressing a love and devotion toward my mother, and a sense of resilience and good humor I never expected, augmenting some of the pain.
Annie i am so grateful for such a thoughtful, lovely response. thank you.
and... i haven't talked to my father for 9 years now. but i did just get a birthday card from him. hence...
and the briar rabbit references in the poem are from Song of the South, where the briar rabbit tricks his persecutor with some psychological warfare- pretending he DOESN"T want to be put in the briar, when actually that is the way he can escape.
thank you for sharing especially the story of your mother and seeing your father.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
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Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
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"Her looks fading, the vain Lispector became increasingly reclusive and demanding. Addicted to cigarettes and sleeping pills, she exhibited erratic and sometimes imperious behavior. She would call friends in the middle of the night and flee dinner parties for little apparent reason. She had a reputation for being a liar."-<em>NYT on Clarice Lispector
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
'making way through my flickering mantra' I have a choice...
Holy Shit. I woke my husband at 6:50am to make him listen so I could read this out loud. Is this where I call my shrink and end the relationship, or is this where I humbly beg for MORE MORE MORE! Awesome Stuff Woman
i am so so glad you enjoyed it this much! with poems like this it's a convoluted relationship, because you can't say you 'like' darkness, suffering, brutality= but you can like telling the truth, and what i call the 'accidental truths' that poetry tells, where the words come together and reveal something you didn't even mean to...
thanks LER :)
I don't understand every line in this poem, but I identify with the trauma and the emotion. There are things we don't ever forget, and slimy feelings, even after the disconnect by choice, or the physical death of the father, but we do survive. This poem makes me want to cry. I have moved past quite a bit, but poems like this are a reminder. My heart goes out to you.
There are many lines that stand out, and the poem as a whole, has a major impact:
"bullets lodge in body's private spaces, beyond removal."
"making way through my flickering mantra: i have a choice."
"tiny violence- i am in control of this mutilation."
"oh my darling, you were lost and gone forever
why can't you stay missing?
i killed you enough."
"... only the thin bloody line of paper cut
lies between your signature
and my survival."
Especially after a family visit, as an adult, I used to wake up every morning with a metaphorical baseball bat, poised to strike, but I never hit, because I am not that man. Now, after death, the baseball bat does not return unbidden, but I recall it sometimes, just to check the current state of my emotions.
It is not only his death that brought a measure of peace. I made the right choice and did not see him for over twenty years. But, my mother became ill, unable to travel, and if I was ever to see her again, I had to see him. Toward the end, he redeemed himself a bit, expressing a love and devotion toward my mother, and a sense of resilience and good humor I never expected, augmenting some of the pain.
- His end, not my mother's. She has chronic illnesses, but my mother is alive and well, loved and loving.
Annie i am so grateful for such a thoughtful, lovely response. thank you.
and... i haven't talked to my father for 9 years now. but i did just get a birthday card from him. hence...
and the briar rabbit references in the poem are from Song of the South, where the briar rabbit tricks his persecutor with some psychological warfare- pretending he DOESN"T want to be put in the briar, when actually that is the way he can escape.
thank you for sharing especially the story of your mother and seeing your father.
you are such a powerful writer. I so enjoy what you write. Wow.
wow. some beautiful, heart breaking lines in there. wow.
You inspired me to post a poem about my dad, too. I love this one of yours - as I love all of your poetry, really.
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