yeah, behind two days this time, but in my defense, i was going to post on day #8 but i didn't have time to format the poem, and i completely lacked any motivation yesterday so i took a rest day! anyway, for days #8 and #9 i have a two-part poem about the staccato of grief.
after the poems, i've included some notes on their writing, should anyone be interested in my thoughts.
ebbing and flowing: movement of grief part i
there is nothing that cascades
the way loss does, like a river through
mossy rocks, a boat having gone off the falls;
it builds the way that breath does,
measured by the pulse of one's blood,
falling
steadily, then
rising rapidly all at once a rush of panic
and then stopping
a beat of nothing
where your lungs
forget
how to work
until they remember again
quick
short
breaths
no paper bag,
a friend's hand on the back, a reprieve
but a reminder of what has been lost
just like every song lyric you've never noticed
though you've heard it a thousand times,
in things you never cared about before
someone that's gone now made you care,
in the hole in your chest left behind by them—
losing someone means
you will search for them
in everything
because they're not where you used to find them
and every empty hiding spot will tear the hole
wide open, though the reminders are fleeting
relief,
a second of
a world where
they are still beside you, their warmth
still yours, still theirs,
a steady hand to grasp onto until
you remember it's nothing but empty air;
nothing but empty
empty
air.
water levels: movement of grief pt. ii
there were always good times in between the bad
there were always good times in between the bad
there were always good times in between the bad
there were always good times in between the bad
good things cannot happen without bad things
good things cannot happen without bad things
good things cannot happen without bad things
good things cannot happen without bad things
the things we fear are not years away
they are tomorrow
and yesterday
and it's okay
it will be
okay
so, onto my notes:
i wrote these poems to reflect the ever-shifting nature of mourning, both in the words and the way the lines are constructed: first sporadic, seemingly random but driven by little moments of realization. the second, when the grief is no longer fresh, a more steady, mantra-driven ache: something that doesn't go away, but no longer surprises.
the line "the things we fear are not years away" is a reference to a poem i wrote as a teenager, after being diagnosed with a rare heart condition. this poem was one line, repeated to fill a page: the things you fear are years away. at the time, this was a mantra to rewire my brain to believe it would keep living. its appearance in this poem, with one key difference, is an acknowledgement that easing grief requires acceptance rather than denial.
to me, this line says that we must embrace that the things we fear (i.e. loss) may come upon us at any time to truly avoid living in their shadow, rather than spend all of our time convincing ourselves we have more.
so yesterday kept me busy and i didn't post, but instead of ditching this project, i'm just gonna post two things today! so here's an old picture shot on my canon rebel t6, and a short poem entitled Rescue
Rescue
there is flea dirt under my nails,
thick and black; i will not
feel clean for a week,
but it is worth it because
you are loved, and now you know.
okay, so the thing is i always think about doing things and never just do them, so i have decided today that i'm going to post something here every day for december: an old poem, a picture i've taken, a crochet project i need motivation to finish... just something.
so here, for day one, a short poem that is a memory of summer with dashes of inspiration from several different songs about peaches (you know the ones) and richard siken.
if the weather is warm enough for shorts,
everything isn't so bad.
we pull ripe peaches off of branches
we have to jump to reach,
the fruit well earned
and sweet dripping down our chins.
in sweater weather,
the peach trees are all branches
and we are all inconsolable.
yousharknotpass
2087
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis
titsay
amandla
kianamaiart
areudirty
