They say opportunity knocks, but then
once it’s in, I’ve seen it punch. Explode.
Manhandle. Demand. Require. Kick.
Throttle. Strangle. Rebuke. Erode.
If only it only knocked, perhaps
I’d be more inclined to answer the door,
but sometimes, once in, it takes all you have,
and then, when you’re spent, it takes more.
*Dear Readers … this is just to say that this is NOT the poem I thought I was sitting down to write, but this is the poem that showed up. And any of you who have taken a class with me know that I am a big fan of the dictum of Jack Mueller, Obey the poem’s emerging form. So I did. I think I almost scared myself with this poem. Enough that I thought twice about sending it out. But here it is …
Jack was right. I’m so glad you followed his advice. I love this poem.
Thank you, Joan. Yes, Jack was SOOOO right. If I trust anything, it’s that the poem will always know more than I do, and that i just cause a lot of problems when I get in the way! Still … well, as I said to joe, it’s not my usual playground, this ferocity, and it made me a bit (a lot) uneasy not only to play there but then to invite other people in with me. thanks for meeting me here in this tender space.
My friend, your note is revealing. There is a certain embarrassment for the poet when a poem so perfect arrives, especially one that challenges one’s sense of self, or maybe just one’s persona. This poem doesn’t “sound like Rosemerry,” but there must be an aspect of Rosemerry it speaks from and for. My guess is that you’re wary of its “negativity,” which I put in quotes because it’s not negative, only ferocious. It’s a truth-telling poem, like all your poems, but not the kind of truth that usually finds expression through you. I’m not surprised you thought twice. How many times do we look at what’s shouldered itself into the page and feel “that’s not me”? And maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just a close relative. That aggressive uncle you didn’t think would make it for Thanksgiving, but he shows up—early—while you’re trying to get the turkey in the oven, demanding a beer and the big game on TV and a loud debate about politics. And afterward … whose story to we keep telling? The one full of uncomfortable truths about our side of the family, of course….
oh Joe, you nailed it. The terrifying part is how true it is, and how i would rather it weren’t true! and yes, it somehow dances between negativity and ferocity, not my usual playground, so I feel a little uneasy there. This is part of why i love poems so much–they really help us see things we might rather not see. Darn aggressive uncles, how they show us ourselves.
sending you big hugs, and thanks for this reflection.
xo
r
Hey Brave friend! 🙂
Thanks for sharing this!
You put yourself out there and invited others in – cool how your words did that. How cool how, in doing that, you give permission to do that.:)
As a “sharer” of poems and a curator (of sorts) of them, I find myself with the same trepidation sometimes. I desire, or even feel lead, to share a poem and at the same time feel a sense of uneasiness, exposure, vulnerability in doing so. Sometimes, I even choose a “safer” poem. (On those days my willingness to be brave falters.)
Thanks for being brave. Thanks for sharing that it took that bravery to share this poem. I might not have fully appreciated the “aggressive uncle” if you hadn’t nudged me. 🙂
Love and Namaste,
Augusta
Augusta! Somehow I missed this when it came in. Thank you for writing this, for seeing the bravery and for hanging out in that playground yourself! So many hugs to you, r