The Wild Woman Crafts Gardens Out of Her Wounds

 “Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?” – Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

The world weeps

for the Wild Woman.

“Your blooming days are gone,

they tell her. “Life gutted you

and Death is flying in to fill

your sky, balance

dangling from its beak. You are

afraid of the end, we

understand you just too well.”

The Wild Woman shows how

she has crafted gardens out of her wounds.

But the world’s eyes are wept shut. Still,

the Wild Woman speaks her truth, and hopes

for working ears:

“I don’t fear the fall—
a forest is not afraid
of decaying leaves”

The world weeps and weeps

for the Wild Woman

they can’t see.

September, by Cat Schappach

a not-so-wee note…

- since I know that some of us are much too human to keep from drawing certain conclusions out of poetry, I should clarify that I am not dying just yet (at least, not more than any other living thing). This poem was inspired by a recurrent theme in my life: the way some people continue to tell me that they understand why I would want to curse the whole world. I keep telling them that I don’t want to curse the world—certain presumably human creatures? Maybe. But not the world—I enjoy the world. Projection is a curious thing. I do wonder how much happier some of us would be if we took the time to see, accept, and embrace the reality in front of us, and dwell less in the doom and gloom preconceptions can paint over our eyes.

- for Poets United Poetry Pantry (498) and Sanaa’s Weekend Mini-Challenge: Take a chance and step into the mythical realm, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (find a piece of art… and create your own poetic mythology around it).

If I Had Been Kafka’s Gregor Samsa

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” – Franz Kafka

I have not been able to read a printed book on the train for some years now. My hands and arms and I can’t quite manage holding a book, in the needed position, without significant pain. Flipping through the pages of a book was my favorite thing to do while commuting… When the pain forced me to make a change, I started people hearing while riding.

People hearing is just like people watching, but with eavesdropping included. I’m not talking about spying or trying to overhear other people’s precious secrets. No, I wouldn’t enjoy that. I am referring to letting my ear near conversations others might be having on the bus, in line to pay for groceries, at the airport…   

Yesterday, while riding the 1 (the 1 train, that is) from Manhattan to The Bronx, my people hearing curiosity and I were served several treats:

- a woman with two dogs, said to one of the pups, “If you’re mommy’s very good girl, and you pee on that asshole’s rug, mommy will give you bacon.” I never found out who the asshole was.

- a very old man (no, he didn’t have enormous wings), told an invisible friend, “Cut your nails when they’re looking. Hit them in the eye. Hard in the eye. That’ll stop it.” I’m still wondering about the identity of the ‘it’ that needs stopping.

- a girl told her companion, “If I’d been the Gregor guy, I would’ve eaten my whole family. Some assholes deserve to be eaten.” I’m quite glad to inform you that I wasn’t the only people hearer who shook with laughter at the imaginative teenage girl’s cannibalistic choice of imagery.

It’s very likely that I will never stop missing the joy of reading a paper book while riding the bus or train. But I am grateful for the unexpected (and rather uncanny) gift that came out of the change. Now, if my skull and I could only get rid of the image of a teenage roach devouring the unsightliest of familial meals.

via

 - linked to the Interactive Moonlight Musings, over at Poets United, where my favorite person in the whole wide world, invites everyone to write an article (in 369 words or fewer) inspired by the Positive Side of Change.