I imagined how seemingly
easily this could happen. There were drones taking pictures at the Color Run
I’d done earlier in the year. They were
kind of creepy, dipping in and out around the crowd, snapping photos.
And suddenly,
sitting in my little house out in the woods, the darkness, looked so much darker. And the world felt so much scarier.
What I realized
early this morning as I sat to write in my journal was that the anxiousness
about the drones shooting people and the experience of the spider hanging from
his web in the tree laid bare my sense of vulnerability that I have been
feeling, but not acknowledging, as I have been trying to get things together so
I can see someone at MD Anderson about my cancer. The waiting and the sense of
having no control over the situation are places of extreme vulnerability for
me.
Yet, we are all
often more vulnerable than we care to admit. When you are confronted with the
death of a child, or a serious health problem, you tend to become aware of your
own vulnerabilities.
I’ve been
reading a book about writing personal poetry. Sometime over the weekend, inspiration
struck and I wrote a piece of personal poetry. The poem explains the photo, the
scene in the photo was the inspiration for the poem. Please understand that I
am allowing myself to go into dark places, and I am sharing my vulnerability
with you, but I really am about as okay as I can be with my health situation.
People say I am courageous. This is where I can usually agree with them—I am
not afraid to go deep and explore the dark crevices.
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. … Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light. -BrenĂ© Brown
HOPE
On my kitchen
windowsill:
watermelon seeds rest
on dried tea
bag papers—
the intentions being:
the seeds
will be planted
to grow in the darkness
of next
summer’s ground
while the tea bag papers
will be used
to create a work of art
now lying
undiscovered
in my heart.
“The problem is:
you think you have time.”
No one knows:
The seeds,
the tea bag papers,
they are my talismans,
visual and
tangible symbols
of my desperate and unspoken
hope: that I will have time.
That is so simply written. Not overdone. Not maudlin. Just truthful and real. I applaud the poem and hold its vulnerability close.
ReplyDeleteWell said, Cyn. It is indeed simply and clearly written...not maudlin...but truthful.
DeleteThank you, Cyn! I'm glad you are one of the ones who holds my vulnerabilities close.
DeleteConnie, thank you.
DeleteI love this, so beautifully real and true!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteWow, annie! Wow.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteOh, sweet girl: YOU ARE A POET. This is breathtaking.
ReplyDeleteGood, good, good.
Thank you.
I'm glad you like it, Beth! Thank you!
DeleteAnnie; This poem is beautiful and meaningful with layers of thinking and feeling which ring deeply true. The greatest fear probably is that there will not be enough time...and yet you put the positive spin on this...so refreshing: "The seeds, the tea bag papers,
ReplyDeletethey are my talismans,
visual and tangible symbols
of my desperate and unspoken
hope: that I will have time."
I love the notion of the tangible symbols...so helpful when words fail...there are the talismans...or perhaps the fleeces on the window sill. I still have the odd flower in a vase...renewed, as it will be continually until you are well again. That is my tangible reminder to lift you up in prayer. Every blessing.
Thank you, Connie! "
DeleteI also like "...the fleeces on the window sill."
Thank you for the continuing flower in a vase to remind you to hold me up in prayer.
I wish you could write a poem for me about crows. Keep being awesome.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Patti! Crows, huh? I'll think about them and see what bubbles up!
DeleteWatched that same drone show. Hawaii 5 O, I think. You speak much wisdom here, Annie. When I think "poem", the old man's mind still expects "roses are red; violets are blue"; but I'm learning to adjust, your words expressing "hope" through watermelon seed and tea bags speaking to me of truth as it is.....
ReplyDeleteYes, Jim, Hawaii Five-0! Thank you!
DeleteOh honey.....I love this. Please keep putting tea bags on that window sill. Please keep writing these things. Please keep exploring. In doing that, you are saving us.
ReplyDeleteMindy, thank you so much! Sometimes I feel like these things are too raw and vulnerable, and yet, if they are helping others, then my little bit of discomfort is so worth it! And it's good practice for me!
DeleteBeautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnd you will have time.
I love you.
Thank you, Denise! I love you too, my friend!
DeleteI love it... sometimes I wish I had the words... or they would just show up...
ReplyDelete