these scars on my arm?
I used to walk my hell with me
everywhere on a leash
and let it bite me sometimes
just to be sure it still hurt
But I Don’t Need to Do that Anymore Tanka
March 8, 2012 by Rosemerry
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You side-step the literal so easily with that line, “I used to walk my hell with me…” which is why this one goes so much further than merely walking the dog.
You got it right. I think it’s a But I Don’t Need to Do that Tanka Anymore Tanka:>)
A side of you I’ve not seen before. (And how about that?)
This, from William Stafford:
Scars
They tell how it was, and how time
came along, and how it happened
again and again. They tell
the slant life takes when it turns
and slashes your face as a friend.
Any wound is real. In church
a woman lets the sun find
her cheek, and we see the lesson:
there are years in that book; there are sorrows
a choir can’t reach when they sing.
Rows of children lift their faces of promise,
places where the scars will be.
—
We hurt the ones we love, even if, especially when, it’s ourself. (“But I Don’t Need to Do that Anymore….”)
That’s a really beautiful and oh! Painful poem from Mr. Stafford … Who also was a poem a dayer. I haven’t seen it before, thanks …