After the last chapter, I decided we need a break from all that intensity before going on. Okay. I need the break. While we’re at it, I’m cold too – go put on a sweater, will you?
Seriously, if you feel up to it, you can skip this little section and go on to the next one. All I plan to do here is share some poetry to booster my battered emotions. Those last months of my marriage are still hard for me to face.
Sun Song
Warm sand under my feet
Caressing them as I walk
Along the beach - blank as a page
A few pieces of driftwood and shells
Break up its placid smoothness
Gently the waves wash in and out
Removing the marks of those
Who dare this pilgrimage
I sit just out of their reach
Hypnotized by their rhythm
The sun beats upon my shoulders
Forcing muscles to relax
Burning out the daggers in my back
Nothing outside of this beach exists
My mind is as empty as the sky above me
A hunger makes itself known inside me
A hunger to be physically alive
To live in this body
Instead of ignoring its presence
I lay on my back
Nature communes with me
Reminding me that just being
Is cause for celebration
Grateful, I accept this lesson
You never noticed me,
Working in my father's tavern,
But I use to pause
And listen to you speak
Poems exquisite and fair,
Imagining you meant them for me.
How I would despise Roxanne
For not seeing the beauty behind your nose.
How could she be so shallow and blind
Not to see that Christian's words
Were actually spawned from your mind?
But she was a lady
And I was not.
She had golden curls.
And I, a brownish mop.
Her skin was fine cream.
Mine was custard with spice.
People called her beautiful.
I was just someone nice.
Brushing my hair in front of my mirror,
I often asked it why -
Why couldn't she see the wonderful soul
That dwelt deep inside?
Then my father laid his hand on my shoulder,
His eyes meet mine and smiled,
"I never thought there could be anyone
As beautiful as your mother, my child,
But now I see that I was wrong.
A young man is sure to win
Your gentle heart before long."
A terrible thought entered my soul
As Father walked away -
Could you, my shining hero,
Also have feet of clay?
You bemoan your physical appearance,
But did you ever once tried
To see beyond the outward beauty
And take a look deep inside?
Could it be that you have judged others
In the same way they have judged you?
Did it ever occur to you
To look at people from a different point of view?
And what of me,
The foolish maid,
Do I also bear this guilt?
Have I cherished an illusion?
Was my admiration fantasy built?
Have I ignored the truth
Because I loved the music of your words?
Did I turn a deaf ear
To others who deserved to be heard?
Taking my shopping basket,
I walked through the marketplace.
This time I made an effort
To see beyond the face.
Did you know the baker's laughter
Makes Thor's thunder sound petite?
That the seamstress on the corner
Smiles at everyone she meets?
And the gaunt cobbler leaves out food
For the street urchins to eat?
The butcher sings his songs
So his bedridden mother can hear
His charming baritone
And know her family is near.
One more thing I found,
When I opened my eyes to see -
While I had been admiring your poems
One of your guards was admiring me.
So, while you mourn pitifully
Your self-inflicted state,
Feeling noble in your misery,
I will no longer with envy regret
What I do not have in this short life -
For after all has been said and done,
It's really a matter of one's own insight.
Caterpillar-child
Young vulnerable little caterpillar-child
Taking lessons from my silkworm elders
Spinning a cocoon of denial to live in a world I could not affect
Foolish little caterpillar-child
Despising my covering even as I created it
Retreating to the edge of the mulberry bush to hide my rebellion
Ah!
The dawn of youth
How quickly it passes
How high the price I paid
The other caterpillars were so happy with their cocoons
Why did I hate the one I made?
But still I spun
For it was my duty to make more silk
To cloth the greedy and the haute
The spiteful and those with delusions of grandeur
Was it not my proper place to be boiled to death
So my denial could conceal the bareness of truth?
Why did I shrink back from the steam of death?
Why did I struggle to leave my cocoon?
Could I not see the nobleness of my blind sacrifice?
Now I am stuck between lies and truth
Is it any wonder that the other silkworms shun me?
True
Some of them agreed with me
Until they saw the pain of the struggle
Can I blame them for retreating
When I can barely stand the agony?
Can I blame them for wrapping themselves within more denial
When the truth rakes my own soul?
Can I blame them for their blindness
When I wish I could not see where I failed?
I have come out too far
The strands are broken
My silk is ruined
I have expanded
To go back would accomplish nothing
Poor little caterpillar-child
Looking monstrous in your half-emerged state
Shaking with the pain of the growth others had the sense to shun
Sad little caterpillar-child
Will you stay a scrunched up insect
Or will you stretch your wings and fly?
The Phoenix
Let me cry
I've earned that right
I carry the scars
Of a lengthy fight
Only tears can heal
This gapping wound
Existing in my heart
Of expectation ruined
But from the ashes
I will arise
With wings aflame
To conquer the skies
This spirit of mine
Is too powerful a force
To remain shackled
In the depths of despair and remorse
I was meant for greater dreams
I shall not be captured by petty things
Begone thou demons of stagnant minds
No more my vision will you blind
I will succeed
My will is mine