was I the one?
what I want to know is
was it my fault?
was I the one who
threw the final stone
that knocked you
off the cross and
into the compost
the one who dipped
and filled my bucket
again and again
desperate for more of you?
was I the one who
convinced you
I wasn’t reliable
wouldn’t show up
when it really mattered?
was I the one who
scraped you away
from the scene
where you stood on
the precipice
ready and willing?
the one who instead
led you down into
the garbage heap
where you still sit
and sift through
the millennia of shrinking
stinking sopping trash
imagining here you will
find the clue that erases
feeling small
and insignificant
wasted buried gone?
was I the one you
turned to
reached for
as I ran the other way
turned the corner on you
turned as soon as I
caught the yellow
of your jacket
made a left turn
because I knew you
were headed right?
was I the one who
told you to jump?
who told you not to?
was I the one?
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Betty’s Expressing!
Kathleen’s Expressing!
Michele’s Expressing!
Pam’s Expressing!
This photo is like a portrait of myself when I am longing to call and make an appointment with you to be ‘coached’ into aknowleging my tightly constricted and intricately layered feelings; when I am desperate to release my paralyzing self incriminating accusations and judgements; when I yearn from somewhere deep, deep inside to experience myself as an accepting and loving being; when the only thing that matters is letting go. The shadow on the bottom right hand corner of the photo is so amazing-the shadow self, just there.
Your poem is so powerful, taking me down into the heart of doubt and pain-yet the question itself, “was I the one?”, somehow belies the answer-yes, and no; the question that says, look here, look at this question, it will take you to every kind of loving forgiveness and open hearted compassion-if you follow it into the depths. Love you Pam!
Wow, Miriam. Your very eloquent response is so heartening… and encouraging… that you could find yourself here, with a great deal of understanding and insight… and then express as you have. I’m impressed, grateful, excited! It’s what I dream of, want so much from writing and visual expression, and so often doubt can happen. It’s as though you have connected intimately with this piece and then have continued the intimacy, by revealing yourself in a way that takes me deeper than where i was before. Thank you. More opening for parts of self… more love… Love you too, Miriam!
Pam, our poem here is beautiful and nails the “stranger metaphore.”
“and leaning on your window sill
he’ll tell you that You’ve caused his will
to weaken
with your Love and Warmpth and Shelter
and takeing from his pocket and old schedual of trains
he says, “I told you when i came i was a stranger”
Pam Your poetry is mystical and other worldly, Chrystalizes the emotions of time into the thoughts of eturnity, like a good poem should.
Once lost without a trace
I am greatfull for this Grace
as only You can emagine.
Thank You My Friend.
Thank you, Luana!!!
Two poets stood
you can check to see…
are they still there?
No? They moved on, did they?
Two poets stood for a moment
and looked each other in the eye
knew who they were
themselves and the other
a moment of total recognition.
That moment where the two poets stood
reached forward and back
reached down and up.
That moment extended
in all directions
like any real moment does.
A stranger no stranger than this
a moment no different
from the you the I we are.
Pam,
I just re-read this piece and I love it so much!
There is something so poignant about… all of it but especially
“caught the yellow of your jacket
made a left turn…”
That line makes me catch my breath and I can feel the catch all the way down…
Beautiful. Thank you.