I want to be a part of it —
The biggest hug in the entire world.
I want to be engulfed, enveloped,
Held by Love itself, and feel
The biggest hug in the entire world.
But there are gunshots and I cry instead.
There are so many blog posts to catch up on reading, plus other books that I say I want to read, things that I allegedly want to do — but when it comes down to it, I am often too agitated, tearful, or would just prefer to go to bed. Clearly, I am going insane — but this happens every 4th week, so don’t worry. Or do, if you want, as I just get more and more over this ish every time.
The Internet helps me, but Crazy Jenna shouldn’t have an Internet connection, or else I bother people, and you get posts like this. Clearly not good.
If you have read this far, I shall reward you with a poem (“reward”). I wrote this sijo about the ducklings yesterday.
They hatched a little later this year, yet we get to see them: Ducklings swimming in the running water, gaining strength for flight, Ducklings staying close to Mama, not far from her wide wings.
For Fandango’s Flashback Friday, I am continuing to explore my poems from May 2019. I finally decided to share this one, from May 13th of that year. Not too dark. Enjoy. 🙂
The only way to not survive the fight Is to give up; the spirit can’t be killed But only ceded, so keep hope in sight: It is not God who has destruction willed, But satan lies in wait. Though he is skilled Remember not to forfeit; watch and pray, And God will give you victory today.
I was inspired to write this by extending the metaphor a bit from yesterday’s poem. My poor mom.
Persephone gone so much of the year —
Her dear daughter — gone, there is no more Spring,
The leaves also fall as descend her tears,
Then winter wind imitates her wailing.
That missing presence causes constant stings.
She mourns her daughter lost down in the dark,
Small pomegranate seeds have left their mark.
I wanted to spin some words into something positive, but even though some pleasant things happened today, this is the best poem that got written.
Yesterday was a great day! I got to hang out with friends and even see pictures of one friend’s new kitten and in-person tiny ducklings! This morning was also great, as I got to go to Mass and see people, even my priest’s dog (and he’s also really cool without the dog).
That’s why I can’t figure out why I feel like this:
less than half a day
cuteness and companionship
this is not my will
this is the monster’s bidding,
his chilling fingers
blindfolding my eyes,
blanketing my memory
life’s heat extinguished
I am Persephone tricked,
taken to Hades
An old poem for Fandango’s Flashback Friday. I’ve started 4 poems (and a 6-sentence story 🙂 ) today with no conclusions. By the end of the night, I will finish at least one of those, because I am NOT breaking my 5- or 6-year poetry-writing streak! However, that is not right now!
“Epitaph: A Cherita” (written 5/1/2022)
Here lies unrealized poetic potential.
You will place yellow daffodils on the grave;
She previously thought them obnoxious, but lately…
She admired their unapologetic audacity:
These loud, happy, yellow blooms
Exuberant, speaking words she entombed.
Today’s challenge for DVerse Poetics is to write on the topic of one or more of the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance). I’ll try not to focus on Depression, for once. 🙂 This seems to be quite a challenge for me, but as a writer, I am probably capable of it. The picture is one I took last year.
I’ve been grieving for a long time. At 19 years old, an eating disorder took over my life, almost took my life. Then I spent 4 years recovering. Those are 4 years I’m never going to get back, 4 years when the rest of my peers graduated from college and got jobs, maybe even started families. I feel behind, like I’ll never catch up. Covid didn’t help anything — thanks to that, life became even more on hold. All my life seems to be made up of recovering from previous life.
I used to wonder how I developed an eating disorder in the first place. Now, after having done a ton of therapy and realizing the commonalities between me and other sufferers, I am more surprised that it didn’t happen earlier.
I’ve been briefly in the “acceptance” stage, believing that God has something else for me, that God is writing a beautiful story. Maybe He is, but that doesn’t stop me from stalking over to the “anger” stage. With a birthday coming up in only 6 weeks, I am seeing even more starkly what is lost and finding fewer and fewer ways to replace it.
I’m not fine
I am never fine,
Dare to peer in this brain of
Look at me,
Does anyone care,
Beyond a few words and one
Going nowhere while
Brain runs off a cliff or it
Good time to reprise this photo
My thought process before this: “Okay, I finally finished that happy poem from last week. Let’s let out the other stuff.” MVB: Shock. FOWC: Anybody (close enough?). Then I started writing and realized I could make it into a Quadrille for DVerse; the week’s word is “static.” I’m not linking this up with it but figured I’d give credit for the inspiration. 🙂 At least I’ve written more now!!