“I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am.” ― Virginia Woolf, The Waves
I am my unknown,
an hour vacillating
between memories
and chasing minutes.
When I think I have
the mountaintop in sight,
I blink to find myself
roaming a cactus valley.
Are scars lessons learned
or the armor of survival?
Shards and threads are mute,
but I press them for answers.
Where are you in the empty streets?
I’m a thousand impulses
searching for direction.
I can’t decide if I’m lost or unfamiliar with freedom.
This is fiery hot and exquisite in its expressive quality, Susie! I love; "I’m a thousand impulses searching for direction."💘
ReplyDeleteWow! From the mountaintop to the cactus valley, to being lost or unfamiliar with freedom, this poem packs a wallop. Awesome, Susie. Life is clobbering some of us these days. When they sent out a tsunami warning on top of the corona virus, I thought it was a bit much. LOL. Thankfully it got cancelled.
ReplyDeleteI love the rise and fall to the cactus depths .... and am particularly enamored by the last stanza - especially the first three lines of it - there is just something so blatantly jarring about the image and how well it describes the just below the surface tension and anxiety. Definitely a poem for the times, but also works its way beyond to embrace more than just this particular scarring, traumatic event.
ReplyDeleteI think scars can be both at once.
ReplyDeleteKiller last line!
The time theme of the first stanza resonates with me, Susie, as does the line: ‘I can’t decide if I’m lost or unfamiliar with freedom’.
ReplyDeleteI really love this poem, Susie.
ReplyDelete