This poem was inspired by the Weekly Scribblings about trees and also FOWC: Air. I am not sure if this poem is finished (does anyone else get that feeling that, sometimes, the poem might have more to say?), but this is what I have currently.
How beautiful is every tree,
There is delight in different leaves
Of varying forms and sizes, even one
With a tall and leaning trunk —
The air is fresh and clean, clearing
Old thoughts, and memories healing.
Open up the windows,
Lift the blinds
But maybe hang a new curtain —
Certainly rearrange the furniture
Change it to something happier
And take away the clutter.
There’s too much stuff
From the past; when was the last
Renovation in this place?
New color-schemes can create
A more hopeful face.
For this week’s Weekly Scribblings at PSU, Rommy prompts us with several lines from the musical “Hamilton.” This brings back a lot of memories because I was really into the musical when it first came out, and certain lines from it really inspired and motivated me at the time. This is not a poem today. This is prose, and this is nonfiction.
“Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.” That line could be the summary of my life.
Except, dying wasn’t all that easy, either.
With depression as persistent as it is, and the eating disorder which covered it being so dangerously severe, I’m amazed that I did not die. Soon after the musical “Hamilton” came out and my friend introduced me to its songs, I was in an intensive therapy program (again) to help with the eating disorder behaviors and consequences (again). I had heard that anorexia has one of the highest mortality rates of any mental illness, with up to 25% of sufferers dying, especially if they do not receive treatment. Thinking about all of the people I had met during my recovery journey — it was at least 4 dozen. Take 25% of that; that’s how many could have died already, when I was given a second chance and a third chance. Sometimes, I didn’t even want those extra chances, so why did they not go to somebody else?
I had asked myself — still do, in fact — why I got treatment, why I’m still alive at all. Even during that stint in the therapy program, I was inspired by another line from “Hamilton”: “If there’s a reason I’m still alive when so many have died, then I’m willing to wait for it.” Two years later, I revisited my journal from that time, and I was still waiting yet also re-inspired. If I ever find out the reason why God saved me, I am still willing to wait for it.
This week’s Sunday writing prompt from MLMM is “light,” and several expressions about light are provided as examples. I didn’t use this exact phrase but was inspired especially by, “Thankfully they were light enough to rescue.” I wrote a tanka and then a shadorma.
This poem is for DVerse Poetics and is also partially inspired by FOWC: Issue. The line I used as inspiration is below. Also linking with One-Liner Wednesday / JusJoJan for today.
“Airless and unloved, in the dank basement of the mind” L. Igloria ~ A Reparation Continue reading
For Ronovan’s décima challenge, which this week is FLOAT.
Those who keep going, I admire:
Although we walk, life is a boat.
So hard to keep the ship afloat,
The seas themselves seem to conspire.
Let hope and love be my attire,
To never let the boat capsize,
To skill in sailing realize.
Even when the waves are choppy
May they not break serenity:
Enjoy the ride, sun in my eyes.
I don’t usually take part in DVerse’s prosery prompts, but when I saw today’s, coupled with Fandango’s one-word challenge, I just had to write something! The “prosery” line is, “Reading what I have just written, I now believe,” and it is from Louise Gluck.
Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, pen in hand, I try to think of some “positive affirmations” that don’t reek of insincerity.
“I love my body.” No, not true at all.
“I appreciate my body.” Not as much of a stretch, but still a load of crap.
“There are good things about my body.” Hmmm…. Next.
“There might be good things about how I look.” Well, maybe, but I don’t see them.
“I am willing to believe that there might be good things about how I look.” It seems pitiful, but that I can accept, and it’s a step. One painful, tiny step in the journey.
Reading what I have just written, I now believe that recovery is maybe, at least a little bit, possible.
It’s one of those mornings. 🙄 I am sharing this with MLMM’s writing prompt, Tormented, because it fits the theme much better than what I wrote yesterday.
Ugly. Fat. means
Unwanted. Failure. since
Unintelligibly. Fearful brain
Won’t let her get off this
Ubiquitous, fettering train.
For FOWC: Magnitude and MLMM’s Saturday Mix, for which the “opposing forces are freeze/melt and work/rest.
What magnitude earthquake
Will it take, to shake
Everything back into place?
How much work do we need
To exert, in order to
Return to rest again?
When fears cause lives
To freeze, can even clear
Reason melt steel anxiety?
A quick write for FOWC: Missing and for today’s Weekly Scribblings, using the phrase “swallow screams for dinner.” This got dark; sorry.
Crazy society makes my
Appetite go missing :
I try to fast from fear,
To find more courage quickly —
But I only swallow screams
For dinner.
