And so the tissue-thin skin covering the scar, sealing in the hurt and anger and grief and burning, scalding emptiness has stood well against the test of time. Or so I think. A famous sportsman has a skiing accident A businessman dies in a London underground station Another throws himself from a tall building in the City A famous actor’s life is cut short – snap – just like that And the delicate strands of the healing unravel, tear, gape. The wound is opened, the bloody depths are revealed. My throat stretches and aches to keep back the tears and my eyes burn. I am reminded that grief is not a path from A to B. It meanders, traverses peaks and chasms, navigates switchbacks and launches me into the air. My parachute is gone, only ropes snaking my ankles – freefall beckons and just, just when I think I will hit the ground I am yanked back, ligaments and muscles tearing with effort to just keep going. It’s the hardest work I ever imagined. Because that sorrow, that jolt, that catch of breath isn’t for those who have died, or are unaware. It is for the souls left behind, making new patterns out of just getting through wanting it to be temporary-permanent-over-never to end. What’s left on the other side? It is this. Just this.
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This week, I am releasing some of my pent-up emotions. Life is filled with light and shade. This is how it is, sometimes.
Please do visit the dVerse Open Link Night for examples of some very fine poetry indeed – and be inspired… Join us! I will link up to this week’s post later today.
We fell to the ground grasping at glory Determined to keep all our honour intact The more that we reached out with hands clawed and scratching Our goal disappeared, fabled not fact Yet still we advanced like mad fools, demented Determined to make our dream come alive Harness the earth, make it bow to our bidding Secure our mad futures, in dark times to thrive All sense, love and wonder seem things long-forgotten The one thing that matters is power driven greed We dismiss those who caution, they’re mad men and tree-huggers Yet step back, take a moment – what do you believe? We don’t own this planet, never have in millennia No, it’s not ours to discard when we’re over and done There is only one Earth, live on it lightly We don’t get a second chance – there is no re-run.
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You might be pleased to note that I am ready to submit my work in progress novel to the writing competition! The synopsis was my task at this month’s writing group – goodness me, it was hard work, but well worth it. All I need to do now is write a cover letter, print it all out and post it off – how exciting! (It is to me, anyway!). If nothing else, I’ve got back into the swing of entering my work, so there’s no excuse now…
This week’s poem is, once again, inspired by my novelling – this time, the general backdrop of environmental distress. I hope you find it a little thought provoking?
Please do visit the dVerse Open Link Night for examples of some very fine poetry indeed – and be inspired… Join us!
As I wrestle with revisions, plot lines, character (assassinations) and general staring at an impending submission entry deadline, I have taken a trip down a (very long) memory lane this week.
I would be delighted to find out if, when reading this, you had any idea if this poem was written nearly 30 years ago, when I was but an angst-ridden teenager? This is the poem I mentioned in a previous post, being the last time I entered any sort of writing competition. I’m kind of impressed with my much younger self’s first forays into poetry, although I blush at the idealism – but isn’t that what being a teenager is partly about? It was the 1980s and I seem to remember being frightened silly by the prospect of nuclear war (which is rather sensible, when you think about it).
Thanks to my Mum digging out the book so that we could check the title (both of us could picture the cover, but not the name), I have managed to source a very good condition second hand copy, received it yesterday and am now able to share it with you all, just in time for the weekly extravaganza that is dVerse Open Link Night (which I will link up to later this evening).
The competition was run by the National Association of Youth Clubs in 1985 (I was 14 for most of that year) and was open to girls and young women between the ages of 8 and 22. I think I saw the notice about it in Jackie magazine, which was published weekly until 1993 (and is now defunct).
Come one, come all and join in at dVerse – and do let me know what you think of my old, old work 🙂
