How’s the dissolution going? –Joi Sharp
Flatten me.
Shuck me.
Dissolve
and melt me.
Disperse me
in the air.
Scatter me.
Shatter me.
Fling and
unmatter me.
Shred, slough,
shear, split, tear.
Loose me.
Reduce me.
Erase and
untether the
small self
who compares.
Help me
abandon
any hope
I’ll ever
arrive
somewhere.
right between the heart-valves, this one went…
thanks dear beth dear beth dear beth. i remember so well sitting on the sunny porch of cimarron with you a year ago and you noticed how i was just starting, and here i am still just starting and seeing how right you were … thanks for your vision, your friendship …
Reminded me of that John Donne sonnet, Batter my heart three-personed god, because you do the rhyme and that syncopated rhythm so well. As usual, the ending is especially nice, that simultaneous loss of hope and willingness to lose hope–a new kind of hope in its own.
I didn’t know that sonnet, but oh do I ever like it … Should have known the theme had already been donne.
🙂
Thank you Rosemerry for this poem and Anon for the sonnet 🙂 A treat both.
thank you, Claire
yeah, i see the connections between donne and wahtola-trommer poems, but i think the writer in rosemerry’s is being more “undonne.” (sorry, i couldn’t let such an obvious pun slip; however, my comment is both honest and true, as well as intended.)
aye, i like the idea of dissolving oneself into the Great Mystery, but i’m not ready to submit to it. (“Lord, grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.” -Augustine.)
“Help me abandon any hope I’ll ever arrive somewhere.” A true surrendering. Me? Seems I’ve “miles to go before I sleep.”
This feels like a good prayer.
Solution. My mind longs for solutions. So…if I feed it some dissolution… and fling wide that self who longs to compare, it is relief.
I’m more quiet now than when I arrived at your poem, Rosemerry. How lovely.
thanks, Rebecca … i love these words you’ve chosen –solution/dissolution … and flinging the self