There’s yet to be a heart
made free from cracks,
ripe for breaking;
why try to lie or deny?
We all know well enough,
the heart will hurt
unless you pluck it out
and spend your days running
infinite loops around
the rim of nothing.
I’ve yet to see a body
that wasn’t fit
for decay,
nor, to be fair,
a face free
from beauty.
You think you stand
sufficient? What promise
have you of legs?
Hello Will!
ReplyDeleteLazy Sunday afternoon spent reading all the things I haven't yet read because I have excuses of busyness and other bland things--and here I am!
I like this poem. I like the rhythm--I think you've improved quite well. Though I haven't entirely wrapped my mind around it yet, I like the last stanza. My nosy (though I'd like to prefer curious) self is dying to know the story behind it!
Your friend,
Elizabeth
Hey Elizabeth!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that you liked this poem, recently I feel like I've hit a wall in my poetry, so your comment is quite reassuring.
As for the story behind this poem, well, I can certainly tell you the general theme behind it. I've been interested in the concept that when we feel down, we assume no one understands how we feel, and we try to hide any and all pain from public view (at least I do). I've come to feel that this habit is not entirely healthy, and that it is a self-reinforcing pattern, if no one is honest that they feel pain, then people will feel even more alone. We like to pretend that we're fine, that we only need people when we want to have fun, as if there were shame in going through rough patches in life. Since the Fall though, we are frail and brittle creatures, so why pretend otherwise?
There really isn't a particular story behind this, I mean, I've certainly had my fair share of heartache over the years, but I'm not writing so much about pain as about the way we share pain, or don't share it.