Hole Self
by Kathleen MacGregor
Out on the edge of things-
edge of comfort, politeness, legality, acceptability, of “what we do”,
there aren’t a lot of arms
holding you.
There aren’t a lot of voices
reassuring you.
Because you’re somewhere
no one’s ever been.
You don’t know.
And you know
you don’t know.
You are leaning, balancing over the edge
toes tingling, gripping.
Hoping to feel some security
about the place that’s here.
The world is burning behind you.
You will surely burn with it,
if you go back.
But it might be a slow burn, smoldering and singeing.
Jumping will be a death too.
You will be changed.
Your children will be changed.
It’s time to jump, or burn.
The swirling clench deep in the belly
wants to scream the walls down.
Help me!
Wants to panic and sob with wild abandon. And throw things across rooms with brick walls-
smashing, breaking, crashing, deafening, blinding, gasping.
This is too hard, maybe it’s a mistake, go back, fall back, fall apart, I can’t do it. Take it away from me. I don’t know how.
You become the gaping, yawning hole
opening over the edge.
How can you hold a hole?
How can a hole fall
into itself?
3 Responses to “Hole Self”
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Thank you for this beautiful hole, Kathleen. For me, it’s very evocative of a choice that couldn’t feel completely okay to make with mind’s nagging what ifs. And still it feel like you have found the way out. Knowing the civilization is indeed burning makes it all the easier to endure the courage of the fall…
It’s so sweet to come across your message here, evidence of your visit. Like finding a wonderful surprise left by a friend. Thank you.
Very interesting and amusing subject. I read with great pleasure.