Hi friends–before you read the poem, a little note about content.
It’s Teen Love & Consent week here in Telluride, and lots of difficult conversations are happening about statistics and setting boundaries. At the same time, some difficult news about teen sexual assault has been in our local papers. And so this poem was born. Because it’s so far out of the realm of my normal content, I wanted to give you the ability to not read the poem. It’s not graphic, but it’s not easy to read either. It’s farther down the page.
I realize as I send this what a roller coaster you signed up for when you subscribed to the daily poems, and I thank you for meeting me every day with the all of it. It means so much to me, your presence, thank you.
with great respect,
Rosemerry
What Goes Unspoken
with gratefulness for the girls who spoke out
On the table, the tulips are opening,
splaying in effortless pink delight,
an homage to how soft things can bring so much pleasure,
and I think of how you once scolded me for picking flowers,
saying it was better to leave them as they were.
That was years ago,
when I traveled to see you on Cape Cod.
You were a tennis pro
and I was the girl who thought I could come to love you.
I had gone for a walk in the woods
and picked you a small bouquet.
Violets, perhaps, and something small and white.
I didn’t know then that I was a tulip.
We’d flirted. You seemed kind.
I never thought you would—
never imagined I was—
never dreamt when I said no you wouldn’t—
Mostly I left my body.
I remember staring at the windowsill while you—
I’d put the flowers in a jar. They were purple and white.
How could you defend the flowers and yet—
I didn’t open for you and you cut—
I was a stem when I left.
It’s been years since I remembered you,
but there was an article in the paper this week
about a boy here who—
Eleven girls spoke out.
How many girls did you—
I never said a word.
I have a girl now, too.
Rosemerry,
Thank you and I’m sorry,
both seem to apply
to this incomparable poem.
How you can transform
such raw experience
into powerful, urgent, yet
not graphic words
is truly incredible (but not surprising).
How your heart can live
out there in the world
for all of us to hold, trembling.
The wellspring you tap into, Rosemerry,
so generously overflows your Being:
Satisfying us, surprising us, and rousing us awake
Thank you for your words
and for the many wounds,
that you tend to in our soul
You poetry is vibrant, alive,
and oh, so, vital 🙏🏻❤️!
wow, thank you, Steven, for this beautiful response, so open, so generous. thank you for holding my heart–for your presence. I am thinking of Ram Dass’ words, we are all just walking each other home.
Definitely not easy, pleasurable to read.
The title, What Goes Unspoken. The violence that goes unspoken and its isolation and inertia of damage. What’s not explicitly spoken in this poem lays the reader open to the implicit, and too close to likely, actions taking place. I’m shuddering. Having to come and go as I type this response.
With my own actions in my own past, I’ve not always heeded another person’s consent. While I’ve never forced myself into a woman, I have assuredly forced myself onto them, sexually. I am so very much not, “without sin.” I have no daughter, no son; I do have a sister, though…
For so many bouquets of reasons, thank you, Rosemerry, for this poem; and for making it public.
Infinite kiitos.
Here’s a link to, “some difficult news about teen sexual assault has been in our local papers.” https://www.telluridenews.com/news/article_993f5956-a49d-11ed-a498-d3803e10df4b.html
beautiful gentle man, thank you–thank you. it’s a big conversation. I send you big love–
“I was a stem when I left.”
Thank you for speaking out with such power today.
I don’t know how, but you seem to have roots now.
Thank you dear Tom, for responding, for your kindness. Ease to you as you move …
What you didn’t say then, you are saying powerfully now, in a way that will reach many women who’ve been there, and many girls who might now make different choices.
thank you, Heidi–for your words, your presence, your ongoing support ❤️
I admire how you are able to create beauty from pain. Thank you for your gifts.
thank you, Maurice … thank you
So powerful Rosemerry, such a gift for such a difficult subject and as Maurice said, ‘to create beauty from pain’. This is perhaps every woman’s story. And this is one step toward changing that. I will not see tulips in quite the same way again. xoxo
so many women’s pain … and some men, too–thank you for this response, for your ongoing support, dear Janice
Your voice is so important to so many.. Thank you for finding the words.
Thank you, Susan … for your presence, your words here.
🌷🌷🌷
Beautiful and powerful. Thanks for saying what has been unspoken for so many of us.
so many. The statistics are so grim. It heartens me that there even is a teen love & consent week–it’s a conversation now that I didn’t have. would that have changed anything? loving you, dear Heather, thank you for this note, for the bouquet ❤️
This is incredible. Yes to all the comments before mine, and thank you. I have two daughters.
Thank you, Barb, thank you
This slayed me…I immediately wrote an unedited poem that spoke of something I struggle with…How we all curate our conversations for public consumption so as to not upset others or make them look at something “unpleasant”. I am a truth teller and have created art around this topic.I am shamed and shunned by many as a result. That is also deeply painful…a double wounding of sorts. And yes, I am a survivor of sexual abuse. My writing in response to your poem:
We do not have the luxury of speaking softly with honeyed words when young flesh is being penetrated by septers of entitlement.
We do not have the luxury of pretending everything is okay when soft flesh is violated where no trespassing signs were prominently displayed.
We do not have the luxury of worrying what the neighbors will think when a sparkling gem of possibility was brutally stolen in plain sight.
And what is left leaves a raw Chironic black hole and a deepening stain that seeps and creeps into all the light filled nooks and crannies of what was once sacred.
YES! To everything you said. YES!
I am currently attempting to write pieces about the same subject, while simultaneously trying to distance my emotions from my own devastating personal experience. (I was sexually assaulted three years ago while in the hospital after major back surgery, so it is still raw, very raw. The reporting process I went through was met with the hospital’s cover-up attempts, etc.) I go, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth emotionally as I write. Exhausting and shredding!
What you and Dearrosemerry are doing is critically important work born of pain and determination. It is genuine love for others – the opposite of the energy of sexual assault.
I cry at your bravery dearwomen!
xoxoxoxoxoxoox – apologies for rambling ~ Laegan
genuine love for others as the seed … it’s true. beautifully said. Thank you for sharing about the recent sexual assault in the hospital. my god. I am wrapping loving energy around you, Laegan
Yes–so many conversations that need to be opened thank you for sharing this powerful response, Tamara
It’s everything a poem should be. No patience necessary. You give voice to the voiceless, which is one very important function of good poetry.
yes, poetry wants to bring out difficult conversations –thank you, Ana
A brave and clear-eyed look back at—
And what you leave us to fill in is unspeakable. What we know but seldom acknowledge or contemplate but must and so we can’t help but fill in the cry that the poem holds back. Brilliant, affecting, profound.
thank you, dear Joe … oh friend. these poems, what they ask of us … love to you
👌
Rosemerry, your poem is so sad and moving. Thank you for writing it. I can strongly identify with the subtlety of the feelings in it, having been traumatized by sexual abuse when I was a teenager, and it recalls feelings my daughter Sarah has expressed about having been molested by a teenage boy babysitter when she was four. She has completed a painfully powerful autobiographical movie, Secondary Dominance, about how she has navigated this trauma throughout her life, which has been accepted by two women’s film festivals, and Godfrey Reggio, director of the movie Koyaanisqatsi, has called it “a masterpiece”. Though it hasn’t been released yet, you might be interested in this link to it on the IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt16188190/
One more thing – I read your poems every day with gratitude, and they enhance my life (and my book!).
oh friend, your daughter’s story moves me. Such a powerful way to tell the story through neuroscience, art and personal narrative. wow. also, thank you for reading the poems every day 😉
I will tell her you said this! I forwarded her the poem, and here is her reply: “Oh my god. Im shivering all over. This poem is so incredibly evocative. And so beautiful.” {: > )
Our scars are both painful and beautiful and make us who we are. I was initially attracted to your poetry because it exemplifies everything I love about the power and beauty of image and verse; I’ve kept coming back, however, to hear your courageous voice and the honest heart. It’s Truth I’ve signed up for — no more, no less — and it’s never been shared more powerfully than in these words. Thank you for bravely giving voice and permission to voice what for many has never been said.
Thank you, Tom, for coming back, for your presence, for your thoughtful responses. Thank you for this response to this poem in particular–oh this practice of showing up to write, to read, to meet what is here … I am grateful for you.
This poem leaves me speechless, shivering. Its power, its subtlety gives voice to the experiences of many young girls and women. And it powerfully evokes my own memories, my self-doubt, and yes -shame.
Oh Debora, sending you love, friend–sending you love ❤️
Oh Rosemerry, I am so, so sorry. Wish I were there or you here so I could hug you. Just know how deeply I feel for you and for everyone who seeking love (or just being) is instead stripped to the bone. Ann
Thank you, Ann–we carry each other, all of us. It’s so long ago now, but it was a surprise to remember it after quite a few years. Funny how things get buried. I remember how painful it was. Now I mostly wish to do something to prevent it from happening again for anyone else … love to you
Chills. Thank you for sharing <3
I’m so sorry you had to experience what you did. Your feelings are all valid and worthy of being heard. Wishing peace and love for you and your family <3
Thank you, Kristina–May no one ever know such an experience again … and may no one feel silenced.