Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Jesus and The Onions

Jesus rides to the vegetable store on his mobility scooter.

He asks the lady for two onions and she puts them in the carrier bag on the back of his chair.

I smile.
How people fall.

He’s not ‘the’ Jesus.
The one from the book and the church.

But he smells strange as I walk past.

Dried blood. Incense. Smoke.

It carries on the breeze.
Tickles my nose.

I leave Jesus and hope he gets a good price for the onions.

The sky is blue today.
My boots are heavy and brown.
I drag them around the path.

How much easier it is to fall.
Weighed down by remembering and confessions.

The policeman looks over his shoulder as I cross the road.
The marks on my neck
Heavy like my boots.

I bang my head on the chiropody clinic window.
There’s nothing wrong with my feet.
But there’s no place left to send me.

I rock on my heels and rub the polish off my fingers.

It is better because there is nothing left to scream for.

Inside it is not mellow. Buttery.
It is hard knots, falling, drowning.

Small stones disappearing in the night.
Our faces getting older.

I try not to catch a glimpse of myself.

In the chiropody room door.
The vegetable shop window.
The mirrors on Jesus’s scooter.

That smell. It comes home with me.

Dried blood. Incense. Smoke.

It is not Jesus.
It is the raw onions weeping in my head.
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33 comments:

  1. annell416 March 2011 at 05:40

    Dear Jae You have captured something very wonderful. Mystical, magical in "dried blood, incense and smoke. You helped me see images, I didn't know were there.....not in the meaning of your words....but something? "Antonio's Line" was brought to mind...I hope you know that movie, something just a little surreal and something just a little religious and something "tongue and cheek." No glimpses of ourselves, that is in order. Years pass, and I am surprised, I have grown old....."dried blood, incense and smoke."

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  2. Jae Rose16 March 2011 at 05:49

    Thank you Annell..the vegetable shop is not usually a place of magic and mystery but something about that combination of sight and smell..strange how we perceive things..I have not heard of that film..I shall research..thank you..your vists always teach me something new (and reassure me that I am not completely bananas!) Jae :)

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  3. Deborah16 March 2011 at 07:11

    Just brilliant Jae, I'm off to let it swim around inside my head for a while ... as usual :o)

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  4. Tarang Sinha16 March 2011 at 07:45

    Well written. I liked the line 'Weighed down by remembering and confessions' but I really struggled to understand the gist.

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  5. Jae Rose16 March 2011 at 08:05

    Thank you Deborah - swirling like a mobility scooter!

    Don't worry Tarang - I don't get the gist either

    Jae

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  6. Christine16 March 2011 at 08:32

    Love that last line, your words always draw me in and I have to read them many many times, each time slower than the last.

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  7. Jae Rose16 March 2011 at 08:34

    Thank you Christine..Jae

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  8. Sheilagh Lee16 March 2011 at 08:36

    Sheilagh Lee said: Your imagery is always so captivating it take a reader right into the thoughts of your character and makes you understand more.Beautifully written.

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  9. Jae Rose16 March 2011 at 08:41

    Thank you Sheilagh..Jae :)

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  10. Unknown16 March 2011 at 09:13

    "There’s nothing wrong with my feet.
    But there’s no place left to send me."
    This is how it is, isn't it?
    Try this.
    Doesn't work?
    Try this.
    No?
    Maybe this will do the trick.
    Sooner or later... magic.

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  11. Traveler16 March 2011 at 10:03

    Our faces getting older
    I try not to get a glimpse of myself.

    There is truth to those words. Its startling the first time you really see the lines that life has painted upon your face when you were to busy to notice!
    As always your writing sends one to pondering as they relish the imagery your words evoke.

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  12. VL Sheridan16 March 2011 at 12:33

    Weeping onions. Sometimes God is in the small details. I think it's easier to find him there.

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  13. Old Egg16 March 2011 at 15:37

    You have that skill of a great writer to form images of great moment from the commonplace. As we read your words vistas of significant events in little peoples' lives are revealed.

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  14. Ren16 March 2011 at 19:31

    I've been reading your work and you blow the top of my head off with your talent.
    The flow of the words are beautiful to me.
    I have to admit, my friend, that sometimes I'm the salmon who's flopping away upstream and not understanding why.
    You're very deep :)

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  15. Dee Martin17 March 2011 at 04:12

    again, the smells, the sights and the feelings - you make all of our senses work. Heading out of town for a bit but I will read this again when I get back Sunday. I am so behind. Jesus is an awesome character in this piece :) You take the mundane and make it magical and touch sad places that we don't even know we have...

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  16. Jae Rose17 March 2011 at 04:16

    Thank You Kim - hoping one day that magic will come..or at least will see it already there..

    Thank you Traveler..very kind..

    Thank you VL - definitely..everything is in the small things..

    Thank you OldEgg..as always...little people are full of big stories..just like Maisie.. :)

    Thank you Ren - Salmon migrate en-masse don't they? Am flipping around on the upstream with you..

    thank you all for reading..Jae

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  17. Jae Rose17 March 2011 at 04:18

    Hi Dee - sorry, just missed your comment by a few minutes..hope you have a good time away..thank you for reading twice! Jae

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  18. Altonian17 March 2011 at 05:04

    There is an eloquent obscurity in your poems that makes me sometimes question myself - am I 'dim' , or something? Then you told Tarang that you didn't get the gist either - and I felt better.

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  19. Shail17 March 2011 at 07:16

    Yep you are deep. I enjoyed reading it, but like Tarang, I cannot say I got the gist :)

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  20. Jae Rose17 March 2011 at 08:40

    Thank you Altonian and Shail - you could never be described as 'dim' Altonian! Jae ;)

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  21. The Rusty Pen17 March 2011 at 12:19

    I love the way this piece flows however, the meaning flows right past me. It has a profound message from the feelings the words elicit in me, and it is beautifully crafted. I just don't get it! I think it has to marinade in my brain for awhile :)

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  22. Jeff17 March 2011 at 14:14

    Jae, First, I'm not sure why the prompt led us both to mention smell this week--that's strange. (I purposely don't read anyone else's submission until I send mine, so that my own thinking/imagination will run its natural course.) Something about breezes always makes me think of smells.

    Anyway, powerful images here as usual.

    The sky is blue today.
    My boots are heavy and brown.
    I drag them around the path.

    How much easier it is to fall.
    Weighed down by remembering and confessions.

    Perfect, Jae. Whatever you do with this poem, never change these lines.

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  23. Monica Manning17 March 2011 at 15:05

    Every time I read one of your pieces, I want to gather up all the lost souls and hug them until they are found again. The end, as always, had me clutching at my heart. "It is not Jesus. It is the raw onions weeping in my head." Was it ever him? is the question I ask over and over.

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  24. Hayden Andrews18 March 2011 at 00:32

    Many seem to not get your short story. I like to not get (or fully get) things - a great time to think and ponder for a bit :)

    Thanks for your thoughts!

    The Poetry Bin

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  25. Jae Rose18 March 2011 at 05:12

    Thank you Rusty Pen..I hope the 'marinading' helps!

    Thank you Nico - I find that there are coincidences in people's reactions to the prompts as well..collective imagination I guess..I just let my scribbles rest here..unchanged..

    Thank you Monica - there's the penny! ;) your comments are always a little hug as well..

    Thank you Hayden..wouldn't it be dull if we understood everthing...walking around in a haze of confusion is a bit like walking around with the sun dazzling on your head and stirring things up..

    Thanks to all!
    Jae :)

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  26. LeiffyV19 March 2011 at 11:58

    And here I thought Ryan Riggs was in trouble! Great piece again, my dear Jae. The flow is subtle and lonely while encompassing more around the focal point, accenting loneliness more.

    Much like the onion, we keep see you peeling away another layer only to wonder if we'll ever get to the core. And yes, we might cry sometimes but it is the beauty, not the smell ;)

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  27. Jae Rose20 March 2011 at 04:10

    Thank you Leiffy - wouldn't want to be a 'Pig-Pen'..as always you see through the layers of that onion..much appreciate your comment..Jae

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  28. Anonymous20 March 2011 at 22:45

    Jae, wish you were closer. You have such a gift for identifying the sadness, the randomness of life, of Jesus on his scooter. To make this tale of a pale blue coat that becomes all about decisions, about regrets, and the simple receipt covered in yucky garbage. I notice black bags are a recurring theme. Your poetry, so interesting, so challenging, and so unique. Amy

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  29. Jae Rose21 March 2011 at 08:34

    Thank you Amy - I wish I was closer too - to anybody (Jesus included)..I guess until you step out into the world in glorious colour you will never be seen...thank you for your support (as ever) - you managed to link to the page as well! Yay. Jae :)

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  30. Anonymous21 March 2011 at 11:54

    bless you,

    you deserve the best....


    Our week 27 poetry potluck is open Now,
    Welcome and Share 1 to 3 poems with us today,
    Your poetry rocks…
    Cheers!
    Bless your day…
    xox

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  31. Kate21 March 2011 at 20:02

    Brilliant.

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  32. Anonymous21 March 2011 at 21:16

    Nice! ...I wrote about onions once... ;)

    As always, I enjoy your words.

    ~Paula

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  33. Jae Rose22 March 2011 at 08:09

    Thank you Jingle and Kate..and Paula..tricky little beggers onions..Jae ;)

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