Pivotal Moments {a poem by my dear one}
15 Aug
{When you spin in circles of writers and witches and wild women – souls who create with the same necessity as they breathe – you sometimes get to read pieces of your own story in the words of another. My own dear one – the friend who has cradled my soul and dried my tears for six years now - wrote this poem about the same night I chronicled in the Pivotal Moments post below. Three years after it was written it still sends chills through my body. Truth has a way of doing that}
Sometimes we don’t
sing our redemption songs
in temples or stadiums
sometimes we croon out
our saving grace
in dark parking lots
outside of dive bars
at 1 a.m.
and I am playing
her like a piano
I am striking the chord
she does not want to hear
and I know…
I know.
It is knowledge
born of experience
and while I’ve never been
much of a singer
I am holdng her notes
singing her song back
to her here in the dark
and she just keeps talking
and she won’t shut up
and she is babbling about
wishes and wasted chances
and regrets.
and she is not feeling
she is only thinking
and she thinks too much
when what she needs to be doing
if she is going to sing this song
is feel.
I am going to make her feel
that’s the plan, anyway
but how do you make someone feel?
is it ethical?
is it logical?
Is it even possible?
About to find out…
“I saw how you were
looking at her,” I whispered
and she looked like I had slapped her
“That,” I told her, “was longing”
and she stammered,
“I just wish I had a way of knowing
I just wish I had explored this before
I got married”
and I cut her off
I said, “I don’t think you need
to explore anything to have your answer
tell me, if he wasn’t in the picture
would there even be a question?”
ethical?
logical?
possible?
her face crumpled
and I folded her up in my arms
and her aria poured out of her soul
and onto my shirt
and I relived that hurt of knowing
that nothing would ever be the same again
and she shook her head back and forth
against my neck
and her shoulders felt frighteningly
frail
as they shook in my arms
and she shook loose the song
she had held so tight
and she found not only that
she had a voice in there after all
but that she had vast range
and was capable of hitting the
high notes
That was absolutely breathtaking
I don’t know if you moderate your comments. Hopefully so and maybe this one won’t end up as a comment but as the note for you that I intended it to be. I have been reading your blog for a while now, wondering how my own story would play out. I am also married, also have young daughters and also was not living my real life. I am getting there. I do have some questions that I would love to ask about the way it worked for you and your husband. Please drop me a line if you have the time for this. Thank you,
Sally
Sally, I saw your comment and would like to recommend http://www.dearjohnilovejane.com. It’s an anthology of essays by women who have gone through the process you’re going through–and I think you’d really get a lot out of it.
Dang! Dang! Totally gave me the chills. Amazing.
So beautiful