ethereal event
counterpoint
lunar cycle
internally, thoughts turn upwards
potency for change
sensorial
exchange
*
Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes: This, is obviously for the brand-new In Eclipse challenge. So. yeah.
Here is the link to the challenge:
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
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Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanova2 days ago in Poets
Comments (16)
I like this form of the poem, very well done
This is nifty as there’s lots going on in so few words. I am feel my crown chakra healing with this one! 😁
‘Potency for change’ is really effective! Well done, Paul!
"Potency for change." I really like that line. A real "stop and think" moment. Well done, Buddy.
I like how you've kept yours short on each line Paul- it feels truest to the spirit of an acrostic, and harder to do as well. "internally, thoughts turn upwards potency for change" makes me think of how we see eclipses as momentous events, and it makes us pause for a bit.
Perfectly done!
I love that you focus on the lunar pull and its effect on us rather than a momentary eclipsing of light.
Cherry-picked words so powerful.
Only days away, one of those moments for which the whole world waits with bated breath, held in the wonder of all its mystery.
Great acrostic! Very carefully chosen words that created a very contemplative tone!
Nicely done 👍🏽
This is awesome! Great work!
This is beautiful, Paul.
Just found the new one...well said and best of luck Paul.
missed there was a new challenge! doubly glad I read this one.
Elegant and uplifting. Good luck on the challenge my friend