~
They build sturdy houses
dense
set too close together
Tactful queries like origami darts
traverse the narrow spaces
~
It’s the women
the older ones first
I bring them warm water
They look in their silk panties for one drop of blood. A sign?
I smell
only urine
~
My powder blue coat has stains from breakfast.
I remember when my sheets smelled like cheese
wrapped around my swollen breasts every time I dreamt
of my stolen child.
~
A mirror is still flat
even if
in it
I can see what is behind me.
~
I have left my face on the wall
no one can see my terror
~
It’s the women….the older ones first
I am young
I am nothing
~
“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Poetry of Light 
Well written. Again. Compelling. The more I read your verse, the more I think of this “poetry of light”–light illuminating darkness. Not dispelling it. Illuminating it. Clarifying the darkness.
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I’m honored, George, and feeling transparent. It’s a good feeling…so thank you. I’ve spent the last three years immersed in writing a manual for the healing of archetypal traumatic experience. Poetry is one way I have found to return from living so long in these shadows. Blessings…
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I enjoy the compelling narrative flow of your poetry.
This line “I remember when my sheets smelled like cheese
wrapped around my swollen breasts every time I dreamt
of my stolen child.” sucks me under the river and leaves me lost in the heartland of the poem. Thanks for writing.
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Thanks Alice..we’re all coming up for air. You do me honors
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Incredible how this turns here…as on a pivot…it has a real physicality to it.
“A mirror is still flat
even if
in it
I can see what is behind me.
~
I have left my face on the wall
no one can see my terror”
Something I greatly admire in a great poem and something I am beginning to explore: the act of poetry as a bodily experience.
…amazed…
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Yes!….and also the earth herself as our body.
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hauntingly vulnerable
facing darkness
when comforting others
~
such compassion
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Wow! This is so raw… I am not surprised you are feeling vulnerable; I feel exposed too. This is cutting work… Fantastic.
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Thank you….really…it’s great to be appreciated. But then again this is just a poem. It staggers me to think the emotions evoked are daily reality for so many. I so appreciate you are building a forum for these voices. So thank you Enfant !
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JH, I am stunned. Awestruck. The beauty and hard truth of this hits deep.
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I’m reeling from this – its pain, its power, its unspoken tensions. Masterful! And I can only imagine how you drew it from yourself. Writing hurts – often.
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Thank you MJ…at times writing feels surgical, doesn’t it? Powerful emotions rise to their surface and we give them story. They inform our physicality. Finding balance in the words when the cuts are clean, even when deep, can be very healing.
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