The flowers are croaking and poking into my feet
Like needles
Bruises
Purple track marks of loss
Like the line in my ankle which will not fade
There are eight days left
Eight days
Filled up by empty noise
The labour of nothingness played out in three rooms
The bathroom
The dining room
And room 23
How I loath room 23
I look at my face in the silver tray
Upside down
Eating soup in this place of strangers
Time becomes elastic as I hear the sounds of an emergency
But not mine
Two policemen stand outside the window
Maybe they are upside down too
I want to go to them and say
Is this ok
Am I ok
Please help
But I know that would be futile
Instead I go to St Peter
He has no keys
Not for me
There are no keys for the doors that lock me in
Locked
In a head I would like to cancel
In time I would like to stop
In breath that is relentless
Pointless
It kills me
To speak
I know my truth is not good enough
I carry it until it overflows
And becomes tears
Piles of ash in the feast at his feet
How much of the world I carry
On this tiny silver tray
Which hides my faces on one side
And confronts me on the other
I want to whisper
Here I am
In the tray
Behind the frosted glass of room 23
Here I am
Sitting on a bed as sharp as needles
Falling like the petals on a flower
As cold and loss punch through its tiny veins.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
27 comments:
Wow. You really are getting your words to fly.
Thanks Christopher..typing in a public library makes you write quickly..ie before you need to inhale again..thank you..Jae ;)
Fabulous. Those 8 days will fly by Jae and then you can say goodbye to room 23 and give yourself permission for life to begin again anew for you.
So powerful... especially:
I want to whisper
Here I am
In the tray
Behind the frosted glass of room 23
Here I am
Sitting on a bed as sharp as needles
Falling like the petals on a flower
As cold and loss punch through its tiny veins
Room 23 will soon be history; and you will find your truth will be good enough once you leave the room and the silver tray behind.
Room 23 will fade and your truth will always reign,
such beautiful heartbreaking prose.
Thank you DayDreamer..I hope I hope.. x
Thank you Laurie..much appreciated..
Thanks Mary..I am happy to keep the tray as long as the room is gone ;)
Thank you Sheilagh..as ever..
Jae
beautiful and powerful. I like the repetition of the silver tray. :)
This is truly beautiful writing. You are relating Room 23 to your head, there are worries still in there like those needles you have in the bed.
Despite the terrible hurt there are also calmer words that are being packed as you prepare for the return home.
Good luck with everything.
Good bye to room 23 - yes!
What sharp and vivid words. Excellent.
You've outgrown room 23 and that silver tray is big enough to hold the whole world.
Thank you Dandelion Girl...
Thank you OldEgg..for illuminating what's going on upstairs..thank you..
Thank you Angel..
Yay! Thanks Alice..would like to create a new room..like Suzie's..
Yes, out-grown..perfect word..one I've been struggling to find..thank you as ever Ann..
Jae
Jae,
Every single one of your poems mesmerise me. I'm so glad I found this blog. :)
Room 23. Gave me a shiver down my spine.
Thank you Marita..I hope the shiver has passed..warm thoughts back..Jae
brave and authentic, with a
touch of sadness.
when I read this I of course stick my own feelings in and think I understand what you are saying though I know that we can never really know what the writer is thinking. I hear conflict, hopefulness, fear...it's like you want to leave but as much as you loath this place there is safety in the routine and the locked doors too. Understanding ourselves can never be measured by room 23 or 8 days or any other number. It is a lifelong trial and as soon as we think we have one thing nailed down, something else slips loose. But we are wonderful miraculous mysteries in that way. You are a strong woman, to go to this place, take what you can from it, and then walk back out into the world. I am more than a little in awe of that kind of courage.
This is the most beautiful piece yet, Jae! It has a haunting tone, yet hopeful, too. Only eight days left!
Ahhh imagery is amazing! Who wouldn't want to vacation in your head? ;-)
Thanks very much Shauna..
Thank you so Dee..I always feel your comments are like a shared cup of tea..and a hug..gratefully received.. :)
Thanks Belva..T-minus 6 now!
Me..I would rather go to a beach..thanks Ben :)
Jae
Such a beautiful piece, sadly drawn on the tiny silver tray. Precious, something to keep, while letting go of other things. It will all be over soon. xoxoxoxo
And just beginning too I hope Annell..Jae x
Your "Room 23" poems should be collected and published, Jae. This one had me screaming, "NO BABY! DON'T GO TO ST. PETER!" like the mom in Poltergeist... your writing is so intricate in detail and unflinchingly honest. Here's one I think you will relate to:'
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/the-ward-and-me-sunday-whirl/
Love and peace, Amy
Most powerful words in this piece filled with metaphor and feeling? Here I am.
Thank you Amy..I have never (knowingly) seen Poltergeist..don't worry I would never trust a man with a key..love and peace back..sorry for slow replies..always good to see you..
Thank you Kim..here i am..here i am quietly leaving (YAY!)..in 5 days..
Jae x
Jae
This poem moved me. It broke my heart, but in such a beautiful way.
Thank you Tracy..
Post a Comment