"A distant future" photography by Raluca Caragea
Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 106
Come join us!
Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 106
Come join us!
"The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit,
showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us." ~Robert
Louis Stevenson
We learn to be
Like birds learn to fly away
Nudged and shown by
The branches sway and break
But somewhere between the souring
And the rivers only dance
Wearing war paint hiding frowns
I put on the perfect mask
I became a reflection of what you were not
Yet part of everything you were
Like a photo within the glass
Capturing a moment that can be blurred
Your cry became my silence
Your fall my need to rise
It took me years to find my voice
For my own prayers and reasons why
So here I sit before the world
The person I have become at last
Yet all that I hold up to be seen now
Is still a reflection of my past.
*********
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“My mother is a poem
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.”
― Sharon Doubiago
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.”
― Sharon Doubiago
I believe your poem applies to all of us ... glad you wrote and shared.
ReplyDeleteI love "your cry became my silence / your fall my need to rise". Also love the quote about poems to our mothers. Wonderful, Carrie.
ReplyDeleteIt will always be there, shading everything, but we draw the bold lines, I think.
ReplyDeleteMy read found a really sad, pathetic phrase,
ReplyDelete"I put on the perfect mask
I became a reflection of what you were not"
Things got better but a little late.
..
Great alchemy in this - a reflection of opposites, kind of.
ReplyDeleteI like the way the two quotes, one from a male and the other from a female writer, frame your own poem, Carrie. My favourite is the one from Sharon Doubiago. I especially enjoyed the lines:
ReplyDelete‘…somewhere between the souring
And the rivers only dance
Wearing war paint hiding frowns
I put on the perfect mask
I became a reflection of what you were not’
and
‘Your cry became my silence
Your fall my need to rise’.
Women often strive to be different from their mothers, and to hide our true selves from family and society. It takes years to find our true selves, only to find that we are reflections of our past.
These two lines speak volumes. The reader can feel the conflict of emotions. The journey to ones inner self can be difficult. Wishing you a peaceful Sunday.
ReplyDeleteYour cry became my silence
Your fall my need to rise
This is gorgeous, the contrasts and the flight are amazing.
ReplyDeleteThe task of finding the courage to be who we really are is long and arduous. We're like stones in a stream, weathered by our passage from hill to valley. If we're lucky, we find ourselves at last!
ReplyDeleteYet all that I hold up to be seen now
ReplyDeleteIs still a reflection of my past
That is true Carrie! However much we desire change there is still our old self lurking in the shadows!
Hank
"Wearing war paint hiding frowns" -- excellent!
ReplyDeleteIntriguing exploration of how we reflect and are changed by all the other is and is not. the opening is lyric and evocative.
ReplyDeleteGetting out of that nest is essential to finding the true self. The bird imagery here speaks to me, though I've never known one to put on a mask. There is always fear of flying, I suppose, though the leap forward is crucial for survival. An evocative poem.
ReplyDeleteThis writing feels like a fight for true identity. I relate to this completely, Carrie.
ReplyDelete