Invisible Things
Hybrid poem
She inhaled the eyeball of earth
spitting out its girth — as if — only
her delight was orbiting round
the warming sun
She grew up hippie
surrounded by hippies
bare foot loose fitting skirt
toes and ankles cooled by the dewey earth
it was all hers — this immortal earth
No idea how to live from the outside in — she was all now — she was all things — but now — she drifts with the whips of the wind — unknown to self and center within — she is withered but not sunken from age — she is wearied by inalienable claims —
‘to each his own’ as the canines roam free
it really is anyone’s game
Though still enchanted by moss
she walks in the woods
high boots tall socks
heeding the sunny rocks
where copperheads sneak
she sits beside the dried up creek
and with her downcast eyes
she unearths invisible things
while exhaling intangible dreams
Breathe & Be Still ©2023
Took a bit of a literary risk with this one. I’m aware that it’s a poetic faux pas to use the word ‘thing’ in a poem. I mean, poets are supposed to have command over the language and use precision of word and descriptive metaphor, am I right?
My word choices in poems are very specific (even if inconspicuously so) and in this case so is the use of the word ‘thing.’ When I first wrote it into the poem I figured it was a holding space until I later revised but then I couldn’t let go of it. ‘Thing’ seemed to belong in this poem but for what purpose I still needed to work out.
Then I thought back to a a time when I was reading Rilke with a German man and he described the difficulties of translating the original German poems into English. Because the German language (he explained) is very precise. He continued to emphasis how there is not a word like ‘thing’ in the German language, which, can be used so indiscriminately to mean so many different ‘things.’ Ahh look at that, how ‘thing’ fit so perfectly there and you still know what I mean.
Anyhow, since the word seemed to have a place of belonging in the poem I made it a poetic exercise to see if I could possibly use the word ‘thing’ in an allegorical way — if I could somehow guide my reader to the true intention of the word. It was a bit torturous but also very fun. Hopefully I pulled it off.
“Yes, the forest knows what no one else can know. The cracks that riddle me like fault lines…”
Thanks to the entire Scrittura team for keeping the creative gears turning and maintaining the provocative flare we writers feast upon. I am indebted to your loving toil.
