Monday, February 13, 2012

Risk

My fingers play with the stopper.
I recognize the texture, rough
threads of fear, smooth curves
of distraction, jagged excuses.
I built this thing myself.
I wiggle it a little, feel
the press of captured words
fighting to fly in full truth.
A few scouts escape, dance out
their tentative fragile patterns.
Sky does not fall. I keep breathing
My fingers play with the stopper.

6 comments:

  1. I must admit I am not sure what this poem is about, what kind of stopper this is. Sorry, I am probably dense somehow.

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  2. Mary, the stopper is the writer's block I tend to construct when I'm scared of what I may feel or say. I haven't been writing poetry because of a fear of writing and feeling my feelings. Yesterday I started a new cycle with the poem "afraid" - That was the beginning of wiggling the stopper. It's almost off now, still maybe looslely in place. But I couldn't have written "Body Blow" without taking my fingers off the stopper. I can feel more poems coming fast and hard and I'm glad.

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  3. Victoria, thank you for the explanation. Please write. Trust me, it helps. Do not fear your feelings. Express them.

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  4. Whew, just pull that stopper out, Victoria. I love that the sky didn't fall with the escape of those words (truths). Beautiful!

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  5. I understood the poem when I read it Victoria. The stopper you built yourself and are fearful about taking out. You do have a lot going on and especially the body blow news is coming at a difficult time. Hang in there and let the words flow little by little when it feels safe to you. Hugs

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  6. Another powerful poem, unique and masterful poetic telling.

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