Thank you, Lisa 💛. It felt like a really important moment to me. I don’t think I realized how much guilt I carry over not reading the “right” or “good” books sometimes. What a funny thing to carry, when I type it all out.
Thank you; Carole! I love how this poem builds jntensity in the first five lines, and in my mind it was likely a metaphor at that point, so the ending caught me by surprise, which I always find delicious . . : but in this case, I really hope you’re not telling a true story about your life because what a thing to go through! ❤️
Not exactly true in my case, although there l was that spark and burning plastic and melted wires and surge suppressor because of a flood in my basement. The water on the floor put it out, which was darn lucky. I think the smoke detector might have picked that up, although it happened while I was not at home. It was a metaphor, too, for signs of trouble that can be detected before they become disasters, if we use more caution and the tools to discern the dangers.
I was hoping to hear that the pain was getting better by now. I'm sorry that you're still experiencing so much of it, and I hope that the healing will come on just as suddenly.
You've dramatically and effectively linked the personal and universal with this poem, Lisa.
Well done.
Hoping you've hit the plateau that precedes the decline; and that you're gradually approaching the turning point to sudden healing.
Thank you so much, Kim! I hope that too.
I grabbed the first question you answered and that became my poem :).
What are you reading now?
.
It’s a question my husband asks me once a week or so
knowing that I cycle through books like a dishwasher.
I’m always reading a few at once. Thrillers, rom-coms, poetry.
I try to be good and throw in some nonfiction every few weeks
and of course those are the ones that change my life.
.
But tonight, as we make dinner, I ask him a question. We sometimes read
the same books, not often, but if the other person raves about them.
I started one of his most beloved, and at a quarter way through
I had to ask him a question: “Is there a happy ending for these characters?
Do they get what they want?” The answer was no. No,
and they become ghosts, restless and dissatisfied even in death.
.
I tell him, “I don’t think I can finish this book. I’m already so sad
and everything around me feels sad. This book feels like a pill
I make myself swallow each day. It’s good for me—“
.
and here he asks, “Is it?” Closing the refrigerator door
and turning back to me, seeing how close I am to crying,
He holds me and asks, “Is it?”
.
I guess it’s not.
So I wash my hands
and close the book.
I feel a little lighter.
Ohhhh I love this portrait of tenderness between you and your spouse and between you and yourself!
Thank you, Lisa 💛. It felt like a really important moment to me. I don’t think I realized how much guilt I carry over not reading the “right” or “good” books sometimes. What a funny thing to carry, when I type it all out.
I definitely catch myself feeling guilty about bizarre things some of the time, too!
I hope you are getting some relief now, Lisa. I read your prompt, and here’s what I came up with:
Safety First
Gradually and then suddenly
A spark brought smoke
Smoke became fire
Fire generated explosion
And explosion wreaked destruction
If only we’d replaced
That smoke detector battery
Last year!
Thank you; Carole! I love how this poem builds jntensity in the first five lines, and in my mind it was likely a metaphor at that point, so the ending caught me by surprise, which I always find delicious . . : but in this case, I really hope you’re not telling a true story about your life because what a thing to go through! ❤️
Not exactly true in my case, although there l was that spark and burning plastic and melted wires and surge suppressor because of a flood in my basement. The water on the floor put it out, which was darn lucky. I think the smoke detector might have picked that up, although it happened while I was not at home. It was a metaphor, too, for signs of trouble that can be detected before they become disasters, if we use more caution and the tools to discern the dangers.
Thank goodness that the water put it out! I really like how the poem works both literally and metaphorically.
I’m going to post it. I was needing some inspiration, so thanks, and I will be sure to acknowledge your post, as well.
Powerful poem and even more impressive that you wrote it while in
such pain. I’ve been there, and I hope the storm eases soon💕
Thank you so much, Kristi! My mom is here helping out now, which is definitely a step in the direction of healing! ❤️
My good side has shrunk
Or maybe the bad's more big.
Who cares at 3AM?
Haha I feel that! My current good side is my bad side under normal circumstances - funny how perception can flip!
I was hoping to hear that the pain was getting better by now. I'm sorry that you're still experiencing so much of it, and I hope that the healing will come on just as suddenly.
Thanks, dear! I’m waiting on a steroid injection in my neck. Once that happens, I’m hopeful things will look and feel quite different!
Lisa, I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this. May something truly wonderful be waiting for you on the other side of this ordeal.
Thank you so much, Ann! 💚
Wow. Thank you for this brilliant reminder.
You’re so welcome, and thank you for your kind comment!
Thank you for writing this
💙💙💙