...quiet, about a lot of things...

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

My True voice...For Poetry Thursday

This is more than just a little intimidating. I feel like I speak Wendy pretty fluently. I try to be honest. I try to write what I would say..well not SAY OUT LOUD..hence the blog title. I try to write what I think to myself. But TRUE VOICE...just be myself..turns out to be a very hard prompt.

Perhaps this speaks of mental illness..and my always present race towards sanity. Ok a bit too overstated...my ever present quest for normalcy. I have always BADLY wanted average. Completely adequate and run of the mill. I came out of the box different.Day one, breath one...different.

So I guess behind the anger, and humour, and the smoke and mirrors...The plain truth is I'm a girl always longing to be something I never will be. As melodramatic as that sounds...This truth has led me to the life I have. Much of my life surprises me. But some of it...I swear, I could feel it coming all along. I just waited for it..and let it happen.

So here's another first draft poem...I hope I'll keep it real..

First Magic

I wake up
groggy, mouth full
of stale cotton.
I feel nothing but
opening eyes.
My throat hurts
but that's all.

Thoughts of sweet
dreams flee swiftly
from the swirl of sick,
gaining ground.
Up my body.
Hitting the shore.
Taking me with it
tossing me forward.

Now I am awake
Pain brings me back.
I remember now.

Where is she?

The blanket is heavy
against me, and empty
as I am, I shake still
under its weight.
The rattle of the gurney
brings the nurse
and the needle and the shot
and the waves stop breaking
and the pain is gone.
and my eyes are open.

Where is she?

Nurse tells me
I must wait
til my pressure is normal
and my vitals are strong.
I promise to be
a good girl.
i am a good girl.

My prize is waiting
wrapped in a blanket
A round head
and two perfect eyes
and two perfect hands
and two perfect feet
and one perfect mouth
that searches for me.

I look down
and feel they
must have pulled
her out of a hat.
perfect pink,
as a bunny.
as soft as
a promise
as deep as
a prayer.

I thank god
for magic.
I hold her.
I dare.


wlf 10:13pm


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posted by wendy at 9:13 PM

8 Comments:

That last line still has me in its clutch.

9/20/06, 10:24 PM  

ahhHHH Yes! A memory that we shall never forget, holding our babes for the first time! Sweet poem!!! xo

9/20/06, 11:54 PM  

beautiful and daring. amazing poem and seemingly amazing person (this is my first visit to see you).

9/21/06, 10:42 AM  

I like the way this moves, from something frighteningly disorienting, to something wonderful at the end.

9/21/06, 12:18 PM  

Beautiful poem, with all its twists and turns - and a powerful conclusion.

9/21/06, 4:17 PM  

i too feel the power of this last line. it is incredible.
thank you for setting this poem up a bit with pieces of the truth of your journey.

9/23/06, 9:34 AM  

ps come on over and see who I have been rocking with for the last 10 days!

9/23/06, 3:55 PM  

I just left you another comment (which blogger ate) in which I wrote, for what it's worth: Aha! Normalcy. It is not altogether a bad thing, you know. But, you are a really FINE poet, and that is something that most people do not want to be, and never try to be, and will never understand those who do....Aren't we LUCKY to have this particular twist in our characters???

9/23/06, 4:01 PM  

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