for my mother's slow wasting
for pain blooming black
for girls full of ugly and spewing
for the nights I don't sleep
and the days I don't dream
and the mean honesty between
for something like silence
silence like something
vacant, vacant and aching
for my fears held close and dear
close and dear
as lovers
Previously published in Bop Dead City
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
12 comments:
Bop Dead City...what a great name.
I can really feel these lines, Mama Zen, especially the "pain blooming black" and the honesty between the not sleeping and not dreaming. A very real poem, just the way life is.
1, 3, 4, 2
My favorite stanzas, in order.
A night without a dream is one thing. But a day without one, that hurts.
Ah, yes...for the nights I don't sleep when fears loom out of proportion and take on depth! Your opening line took me back in time, but a time not so long ago.
The crown is the conclusion... we do collect pain like precious pearls don't we?
We pearl ourselves with pain... It is so hard living through the bleak times. I feel I need to give this poem a hug.
i stopped dreaming, day or night, long ago. or sleeping, much. so, this hits square center (though I don't know nothing on the pain women go through)
MZ--The second stanza is especially powerful...
The pain in this poem is so fresh and raw that tugs at the heart. Especially resonate with; "for the nights I don't sleep and the days I don't dream and the mean honesty between." Beautifully executed.
The dark days need poems more than bright days. Sadly, I find my words curl up and die. Your poem speaks for many of us, I am sure.
A poem for every hurt and every love, for all we have and all we loss, a poem for life and death and all the rest.
Love this.
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