They said I had sea shells under my skin
I trace my fingers over my bones
My neck aches from the weight of my thoughts
The stairs defeat me
I shake at the thought of them
Trip skip fall
Carry the cup with two hands
Refrain from the smell of me
Head full of maggots
I have had enough
We lie on the floor and dream
Babbling leaves returning to the sea
Crocus hills
Stones of shame in our pocket
We observe in silence
Wrap twine around our head
It sits there like a wig
A skein of scars and stories
We lie on the floor
Bent out of shape
How we wish for shells not the shape of our scars.
I resonate with your neck being tired from the weight of your thoughts. Mine, too. I love the babbling leaves returning to the sea, and can feel the weight of the stones in the pockets.
ReplyDeleteSadly we never see our own beauty, for we imagine what people think of us; but they can't see inside of us where real beauty lies. We admire and honour war heroes scarred and maimed by war but shun others who might look different from us. I am bent and struggle to walk with a stick so should I be liked less than when I could run miles? Time and age are not friendly but merely humbling devices reminding us to take up less active hobbies like writing perhaps? I love what you can do Jae.
ReplyDeleteThe build up to the fall is steady and sure. Good dramatic casting of your characters today Jae
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
much love...
"My neck aches from the weight of my thoughts"...I call it 'brain-pain' and I think it's a place we often visit.
ReplyDeleteLife is full of such weights and at times whether we wish or not, we have to carry those weights.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is a scary one! The more so for being told with such expert use of language.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautifully written, despite the turmoil. You captured that feeling of overwhelm so profoundly. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteI know...sometimes one really has had enough! Powerful wording, Jae.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery makes me tremble a little, the intensity of it adds a sense of reality that makes me want to hug the speaker close, help her carry her stone, add an hand in the cleaning of the smell... until she can face stairs and her own face without too much tripping.
ReplyDeleteA pocketful of stones, stones of shame. Time, perhaps, to empty those pockets. (There, now, doesn't that feel better?)
ReplyDeleteScars can tell us where we have been and remind us of who we met along the way. Someimes we can write down "heavy thoughts," and leave them along the way.
ReplyDeleteA skein of scars and stories... oh that is an image that is really heavy for me.
ReplyDelete"My neck aches from the weight of my thoughts." Mine, too, at times, but just when I remind myself yours are heavier than mine, you come up with seashells and scars and stars and wishes for such possible delights as differently shaped sea shells. Go for it, Jae Rose, and keep sending out these poems.
ReplyDeleteTumultuous, brilliantly rendered lines of poetry that cascade to an impactful close.
ReplyDelete"My neck aches from the weight of my thoughts."
ReplyDeleteoh, how profound this is. sometimes it is the scars that define us, and we shouldn't be afraid of them.
“A skein of scars and stories...” Yes, each scar speaks, doesn’t it. Well done.
ReplyDelete'My neck aches from the weight of my my thoughts'. 'A skein of scars and stories'. Well said, Jae.
ReplyDeleteArtistically crafted.
ReplyDelete