Wednesday, April 4, 2018

I SING TO MYSELF AS I MOVE THROUGH THE UNDERWORLD/Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

I SING TO MYSELF AS I MOVE THROUGH THE UNDERWORLD

A soft whisper
Lilts through the air
Travels on the afternoon breeze
I am just a girl grown old
I am a rainbow catcher
I am a painter of many colors
I am a crystal that sparkles
I am a bone collector
I am a Mom who died
I am an organizer of words
I am outraged by what I see
I am still standing
I have grown cold
All that is left is a burial at sea
Little remains of who I once was
There are few who remember me

April 4, 2018



6 comments:

Anonymous said...

There's so much to like about this, Annell. The reference to Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself", all the roads traveled through a life, well lived. But, I would argue with your closing line. To me, you will always be uniquely you, and that is the very best any of us can hope for. It's complicated, this daily business of being me,

Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com

annell said...

Thank you Elizabeth. I will not argue with you, but it seems it is the story we all tell. When asked why this happened, why this did not, the answer always seems, "It is complicated." I guess we could say, "Life is complicated." It is probably the very complications that make us who we are?

Anonymous said...

I would agree, it is the complications that make us who we are. The personal struggles, the myriad choices we are called to make, the struggles of everyday being. We are not flowers, or butterflies with a simple map of only one way to be. We own the ability to make choices, and choices are always complicated.

Elizabeth

brudberg said...

Love the song... the girl grown old... but still standing, still writing.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

A shrink once told me that "every access is a reframe" -- revisiting the damage of the past, we recalibrate the damage, or it does us ... anyway, I love the title because I think that's what every poem is, a song to all the places we dream. A fine catelog of traveling selves.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Beautiful. And yes, it does sing, and is deeply satisfying to read. It has a magical/mystical feel; perhaps it's an incantation.

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