i have convinced myself help is on the way-
i am cleaning up all the hair.
in fear.
for fear.
my mother coming through in my curls.
she shows herself.
falling down, falling long.
and baby girl's got her mama's eyes too.
falling down, falling long.
and black on the inside.
my mother.
my mother.
here, me,
her.
what will happen to baby's eyes
if mama dies?
i convince myself help is on the way-
a starling swarm.
an embolism.
a shattering.
every ocean against the sea. anything.
anything but the charge to carry such a hollow,
such ice.
what will happen to my hair,
to my eyes
if my mother dies?
i try to convince myself help is on the way-
a steadiness.
still as a chair.
still as an eye.
falling down,
falling long.
rimmed in red
and black on the inside.
what will happen in all this empty white?
the winter.
the swinging bells.
our hollow silhouettes.
the cancer curling and curling and curling
and black on the inside.
i am cleaning up all the hair.
in fear.
for fear.
i finger the loose curls.
blackbirds, wide-open.
a nest for the rats.
steady as a chair.
my brother crying.
the horrible expanse of white.
things are going hollow.
there are babies
rimmed in red.
i am trying to convince myself that help is on the way.
angela simione, 2010
8 comments:
Oh I love the way the poem speaks to hair the repetition of hair like a song and then cancer comes in treads in so lightly not at the beginning so as to guide the reader but in the middle as an ahhhhh now we know where this narrator was leading us now we know where we have been and what we have seen. Well done, Angela. Thank you.
Rebecca
i was scared to push this one out the door.
your opinion and knowledge are a good and heavy gold here. thank you so much!!!!!!!
Your first painting of the year is superb, so evocative and the words that follow are breathtaking - 'my mother coming through in my curls'. there are so many wonderful juxtapositions, such poetry.
thanks elisabeth! i started the day thinking about this poem and then BAM! the painting came along too. happy!
so many things to love, to reread here. a few: my mother coming through my curls...the hair as rats nest...the repetition...the idea of losing self when losing mother...
beautiful work.
thank you maggie!
i've been reading your poems a lot and have decided to cull some courage from them...
that sad things must be talked about... that sad things can be beautiful and that hope can be found in that space.
What a beautiful poem! I lost my mother and the symbolism in the poem is akin to what I have been thinking about lately...that even though she is gone, she is still with me in my heart, my face, my being.
I've been reading this book "No Death, No Fear" by Thich Nhat Hanh and published by Riverhead Books, a division of Penguin Putnam.
Here is an excerpt:
"Our greatest fear is that when we die we will become nothing. Many of us believe that our entire existence is only a life span beginning the moment we are born or conceived and ending the moment we die. We believe that we are born from nothing and that when we die we become nothing. And so, we are filled with fear of annihilation.
The Buddha has a very different understanding of our existence. It is the understanding that birth and death are notions. They are not real. The fact that we think they are true makes a powerful illusion that causes all our suffering. The Buddha taught there is no birth, there is no death; there is no coming, there is no going; there is no same, there is no different; there is no permanent self, there is no annihilation. We only think there is. When we understand that we cannot be destroyed, we are liberated from fear. It is a great relief. We can enjoy life and appreciate it in a new way.
The same thing happens when we lose any of our beloved ones. The day my mother died I wrote in my journal, A serious misfortune of my life has arrived. I suffered for more than one year after the passing away of my mother. But one night, in the highlands of Vietnam, I was sleeping in the hut in my hermitage. I dreamed of my mother. I saw myself sitting with her and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, her hair flowing down. It was so pleasant to sit there and talk to her as if she had never died.
When I woke up it was about two in the morning and I felt very strongly as though I had never lost my mother. The impression that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother is always alive in me."
Thank you for your courage for sharing such a heartfelt poem.
Love & peace always,
Linda
hi linda! thank you so much! i'm so happy you like the poem. and thank you so much for taking the time to transcribe this passage. it hits very close to home and i am so grateful to have such a wonderful and positive insight offered my way. i will definitely be picking up a copy of this book.
thank you so so so much,
angela
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