whatever is rattling around my brain that makes it out my fingers. may contain bad poetry, decent photographs (all mine unless otherwise noted, and therefore copyrighted), yoga rants, and general silliness.
Friday, June 18, 2010
rips and tears
i am shredding a life. can you shred possibility? it's like drawing air. and what do you do with the pieces?
Jane Hirshfield's poem with the term "proud flesh" in it reminds me of what you do with pieces of a life that you mend together:
For What Binds Us
There are names for what binds us: strong forces, weak forces. Look around, you can see them: the skin that forms in a half-empty cup, nails rusting into the places they join, joints dovetailed on their own weight. The way things stay so solidly wherever they've been set down -- and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back across a wound, with a great vehemence, more strong than the simple, untested surface before. There's a name for it on horses, when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh is proud of its wounds, wears them as honors given out after battle, small triumphs pinned to the chest --
And when two people have loved each other see how it is like a scar between their bodies, stronger, darker, and proud; how the black cord makes of them a single fabric that nothing can tear or mend.
(you and I may not have that bond with a man right now, but I still think our battle scars are beautiful and hold us together with a strength that shines in keloid glory)
When I first read your poem, it reminded me of the Langston Hughes poem, "Dream Deferred."
I don't know if you're writing about something going on in your life at this particular moment in time, or if your aim is perhaps more universal, more about the human condition in general, so I'm not going to offer any advice other than to just keep writing.
kass- i just knew you'd get that i meant drawing in the "draw a picture" sense! i'm not looking to put these pieces back together-that's not where i'm headed. there may be more on this, if i can ever get the words.
tag-i'd forgotten about the x-game definition! that's perfect.
kirk-i like that hughes poem. this is both personal and universal. i'm in the process of literally shredding multiple boxes of records that date back to before my husband died. these records could have been an opening to a future. instead, they point to an ending. i'll keep writing-i might get it right someday.
...but we do draw air (when we breathe). It is the most exquisite of drawings.
ReplyDeleteThe pieces of a tattered life are put together again and again and when pressed for meaning they become a beautiful burnished trophy.
"...you know what the sun's all about when the lights go out." - Great song.
Jane Hirshfield's poem with the term "proud flesh" in it reminds me of what you do with pieces of a life that you mend together:
ReplyDeleteFor What Binds Us
There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down --
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest --
And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.
(you and I may not have that bond with a man right now, but I still think our battle scars are beautiful and hold us together with a strength that shines in keloid glory)
X-gamers shred air. I can see a number of skate boarders standing next to you, as you took this photo. waiting to get in to shred something.
ReplyDeleteWhen I first read your poem, it reminded me of the Langston Hughes poem, "Dream Deferred."
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you're writing about something going on in your life at this particular moment in time, or if your aim is perhaps more universal, more about the human condition in general, so I'm not going to offer any advice other than to just keep writing.
I love your picture - the colors, the theme, the texture... everything!!
ReplyDeletejust great
loveNlight
Gabi
kass- i just knew you'd get that i meant drawing in the "draw a picture" sense! i'm not looking to put these pieces back together-that's not where i'm headed. there may be more on this, if i can ever get the words.
ReplyDeletetag-i'd forgotten about the x-game definition! that's perfect.
kirk-i like that hughes poem. this is both personal and universal. i'm in the process of literally shredding multiple boxes of records that date back to before my husband died. these records could have been an opening to a future. instead, they point to an ending.
i'll keep writing-i might get it right someday.
gabi-thank you. wasn't sure about that one...