080-francoise-dorleac-theredlistTremulous ghosts must stand in patent shoes around me
for I feel their hands on my shoulders tugging at my seams
I who do not cry
weep openly with sorrow
imagining is often harder than
bearing reality
I think of when he will not stand discontented
staring out at flocking birds
I think of the time I found a starling chick
lying cold on the ground
wondering at the bitter sky
why didn’t you give them a chance?
why did you let me stay instead?
discontent
the child who knew the flavor of strawberry milkshakes
was an artifice
lies from adults, how many more?
behind closed doors and screens
I met a poet an old lady who
wrote like she was on fire
when she didn’t write for a time
I knew she had died
again I railed
why take her? why not me?
I stand disillusioned and empty
she who played castanets and sang
she who had wind-chimes and wrinkles in
her vowels
she had so far to go
I do not
I am here at the fulcrum
waiting my turn at the scythe
it strikes me living doesn’t suit
those who feel everything
like a pretty shoe
isn’t practical for walking
you can admire its form
but it will not hold you up
I ache in ways I cannot give a color
or adverb
it is a disturbance of the soul
the card reader told
you have a dark shadow on your back
she has her hands around your throat
until she dies you will wish for your own death
or you could start drinking again
that might work
sitting at the kitchen table at night
rinsing grief from my palms
strange dark sounds comforting crushing hurt
I examine the bones of my face
they feel as if they should have come unglued
reformed into a mask of ache
outside neighbors children are awake
eager for day to start
a lone dog barks at the moon
because it disturbs the pattern of his knowing
it has been long since I dreamed
when I dream I have hope
hope which is always the most painful place to go
when returning to zero you see the futility
of setting sail just as storms are predicted
you were a hurricane I let whip me up
lent me hope
now I am a milkshake that does not
resemble real strawberries
I am sweet enough for take-out
but nobody knows the sadness behind
a glass that looks full and is not
just residue remains
sticking to the sides
I am holding on
trying not to cry
at the nature of things
some known
some found afterward in epitaph
my grandmother’s hand was
blotchy and purple
still I looked away believing her well
you see
I want to believe in fairy-tales
and ever after
but I confess
it is hard when we are surrounded
by lies in
illuminated
jars

0 Replies to “For I feel”

  1. Goodness.. where to begin Candice.. So much held within that glass jar, so fragile in hands that shake..
    The grim reaper will use his scythe soon enough on those whose time is spent..
    Let not the shadows of the past haunt to bring you down.. But find the glint of the sun upon hope.. For without it we are all lost.. <3 xxx
    Love and Blessings your way Candice.. <3 your heart spoke..

  2. “I am holding on.. “Is such a powerful image for me, as one who at times, hangs on. The reader can relate to this in so many ways. From personal experience or what they would imagine! For those who know what it feels like to actually hang on, there is so much, really so much truth and for me some validation along with my sadness. Thank you so much for such wonderful writing that not only touches my heart, it cracks it!

  3. My first reaction when I finished reading this was actually just to stare wide-mouthed at my screen for a moment.
    Your ability to weave images together astounds me, for it is seamless and beautiful. You are truly talented writer who speaks openly from the heart.
    I could go on but I am still basking in the brilliance of “she who had wind-chimes and wrinkles in her vowels”.

  4. Reblogged this on Tea and Transparency and commented:
    Every so often you stumble upon a post that leaves you staring at your screen wide-mouthed for a while. This is one of them.
    I could go on and explain why I love this so much, but I am still drinking in the brilliance of “she who had wind-chimes and wrinkles in her vowels”.

  5. “…nobody knows the sadness behind
    a glass that looks full and is not
    just residue remains”
    Nobody may have know before reading this, but we know now, or at least have a glimpse of the shadow of the knowledge. Your strength of enduring, and strength of triumphing through writing, are admirable.

  6. Ya know, C, I read the comments everytime you post something, and I see such an adoring community of bloggers and wonder how you can feel so downtrodden. You have such a beautiful gift, even in abject sorrow, you touch lives and so many of us feel what you feel and we want so to love you into wholeness. Not everyone lies! Not everyone betrays! Not everyone hurts others with no regard! You have ghosts, but we all do. However, we can’t let them have our lives nor our joy nor our hope nor out ability to trust nor our ability to rise up, stand tall, and walk away from the sadness and sorrow. And no, a bottle is not the answer nor is anything else that numbs and takes away all that one is and is meant to be. Throwing away your life and your gift is not the answer either. My hurts and sorrows and ghosts are real but dammit I cannot not nor will not let them take my life and love and happiness away. It’s like I used to tell my students, you may slow me down but you cannot nor will not stop me! I so wish I were there to hug you and help in some way. Je t’aime, N 🙂 <3

  7. I have understood when writing- people who read blogs tend to answer- if they feel to do so. For every one has the opportunity to write and express – and to feel accepted. To suffer rejection within ones souls is a disease- that is only cured by acceptance and trust/ loyalty. When we come out of the snare of pain- only then may we begin to heal. The measure of how good you are- is not by a continued commentary- but to know you are valued within your self. To be

  8. to be…. a writer takes special skills in my opinion. You have them! and this is obvious. To share from the heart in truth and openess takes people on a journey that will hopefully change them for ever. Every one of us needs to know we are accepted, loved and esteemed by others. I am a true witness of rejection- And yet in all of this- I know that I will remain steadfast, against all accusation. words have the power to heal or to curse….. Your words bring healing…… As for me I will now consider my way forward….. Thank you for all you have written……

  9. I always tell you, you are brilliant. You express things in such a way that I feel them fully with my heart. You are a magnificent painter of pictures…and I am privileged to watch you work.
    Happy Valentines Day, My wonderful friend, Beautiful Poetess and powerful Warrioress. ❤

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