So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I attempt to shield myself and the reader from feelings of trauma while still saying something about it.]
I won't add to the grief; I'll recycle griefs that are close at hand: Ripley in Alien 3, a virgin huntress and "mother", throws herself into lava as the monster bursts from her chest. And here is the bully in Donnie Darko, who has forced the eponymous hero to the wall in the boy's bathroom, put his crotch on Donnie's thigh, and pressed a knife to his throat. They are so close it's like they are caught in a mirror.
So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I use the metaphor to explore the feeling of trauma after-the-fact.]
Come into the freezer; it's safe and calm here; still as a cemetery. It's ok. Here none can harm us. It's my hideaway, sometimes. Don't mind the carcasses, they will be eaten tomorrow. There's the grave of Geronimo and those of my ancestors – I think in the part after the end they become friends; after the episode finishes and the credits roll. Our breath puffs ghostful, rises light and pretty as reindeer.
So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I destroy the metaphor and move toward transformation.]
But let's take them out and put them to use. We'll mix up some laughs; we'll make margaritas and go to the beach. We can get naked and roast like corn on the cob, purple, yellow, and red. In the heat of the sun, our stories become one, yet distinct. We are not alone in our bodies. Let the waves wash the soft limbs of the shore; let the voices flirt and float in the atmosphere; let the margaritas run through us, and into the ocean run.
This is a very beautiful post with so much wisdom, earned not only for your work as a writer, but also from a lifetime of connections and caring. I’m so very sorry for your losses, and so grateful for your wisdom.
Very sorry to hear about the passing of your brother...and thank you for sharing what must be quite difficult. By this age (71), loss and grief are close partners on the path of my life. It is always there, especially in the white spaces. It influences everything I write, everything I feel. Thank you for this community that you have gathered; I hope you can feel the love it is generating for you and your family. And thanks for the suggested reading. I look forward to the comming workshops and writing with you again. 💙
Into the Ocean Run
or, A Postmodern Confessional Poem
So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I attempt to shield myself and the reader from feelings of trauma while still saying something about it.]
I won't add to the grief; I'll recycle griefs that are close at hand: Ripley in Alien 3, a virgin huntress and "mother", throws herself into lava as the monster bursts from her chest. And here is the bully in Donnie Darko, who has forced the eponymous hero to the wall in the boy's bathroom, put his crotch on Donnie's thigh, and pressed a knife to his throat. They are so close it's like they are caught in a mirror.
So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I use the metaphor to explore the feeling of trauma after-the-fact.]
Come into the freezer; it's safe and calm here; still as a cemetery. It's ok. Here none can harm us. It's my hideaway, sometimes. Don't mind the carcasses, they will be eaten tomorrow. There's the grave of Geronimo and those of my ancestors – I think in the part after the end they become friends; after the episode finishes and the credits roll. Our breath puffs ghostful, rises light and pretty as reindeer.
So many images of pity and pain – I'll make mine small and manageable as ice-cubes in a tray – out of the way.
[In this iteration I destroy the metaphor and move toward transformation.]
But let's take them out and put them to use. We'll mix up some laughs; we'll make margaritas and go to the beach. We can get naked and roast like corn on the cob, purple, yellow, and red. In the heat of the sun, our stories become one, yet distinct. We are not alone in our bodies. Let the waves wash the soft limbs of the shore; let the voices flirt and float in the atmosphere; let the margaritas run through us, and into the ocean run.
This is a very beautiful post with so much wisdom, earned not only for your work as a writer, but also from a lifetime of connections and caring. I’m so very sorry for your losses, and so grateful for your wisdom.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Kathy. Sending my condolences to you and your family. Big hugs to you during this difficult time.❤️
sending love
So sorry for your loss, Kathy. Please take care.
Kathy, you have my deepest condolences 💔
Very sorry to hear about the passing of your brother...and thank you for sharing what must be quite difficult. By this age (71), loss and grief are close partners on the path of my life. It is always there, especially in the white spaces. It influences everything I write, everything I feel. Thank you for this community that you have gathered; I hope you can feel the love it is generating for you and your family. And thanks for the suggested reading. I look forward to the comming workshops and writing with you again. 💙
may your brother's memory be a blessing. I'm so very sorry for your loss.
Thinking of you. So sorry for your loss.
A beautiful commentary on loss. thank you.
So sorry to hear about your brother, Kathy. Sending soothing vibes across the ocean.
Oh Kathy - so so sorry to hear your sad news.
Sending love and condolences to you from across the world.
I hope you can take some time for yourself, to process and grieve.
Thanks for finding the energy to post here - I think this is a valuable prompt.
Warm hugs from the other side of the world.
Sarah
Dear Kathy, I’m so sorry for your loss. ❤️
Kathy, I'm so deeply sorry for your loss. My thoughts are with you.