Mining for the stories underneath this pantoum written in August 2010, just before I took my daughter to Smith College to begin her first year there. There was a rumbling of fear in most everything then and this pantoum helped calm me and also helped me find my way for a time. I’m curious to know in the comments what you do to calm yourself when fear is tap dancing around your gut. Please let me know about your solutions and also if any of the lines in this poem particularly resonate with you.
While I have you fear, you are not me.
I am not you. Though if you were I’d slice you
cut you unstitch you and examine you
the scar you left behind, the life birthed
I am not you, though if you were I’d slice you
fear: sticky red gooey tar, sucking my hope
the scar you left behind the life birthed
from the spot after I burned myself free
Fear: sticky red gooey tar, sucking my hope
I take judgment off your glue and look, just look
From the spot after I burned myself free
The core is the same? The core is the same – the same
I take judgment off your glue and look, just look
love: i’ve lost count of the numbered site – it’s you?
The core is the same? The core is the same – the same
White, waiting – wistful fresh-after-rain-morning
love: i’ve lost count of the numbered site – it’s you?
Breath lost at first touch of toe to dewy grass
White, waiting – wistful fresh-after-rain-morning
Knees buckled by laughing tears, “Hello!!”
Breath lost at first touch of toe to dewy grass
cut you unstitch you and examine you
Knees buckled by laughing tears, “Hello!!”
While I have you fear, you are not me.
What interests me most is the talk of a scar from where fear burned me. At first I thought I was writing about the scar on my face, caused by melanoma, but this was written two years before that diagnosis. Once again, it feels like the past me is reaching to the present me to communicate something, I simply am not able to translate it – yet.
Thank you for reading and double thank you for leaving a comment with what resonates most with you about this poem.
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