Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Wallace Stevens
What seems to be a scar could be a door
sealed tighter than a canopic jar
and within, a small room hollowed out
of your own body, lined red as velvet,
and home to a tiny part of yourself, lost,
forever wandering, in need of an afterlife
reunion with your heart it left behind
in the unchronicled resting place
of a lesser pharaoh.
Day 4 ~ Chronicles
Sherry is our host in The Imaginary Garden today, singing Scars to Your Beautiful.
Sweet Jesus, Kerry!!! This is one of the most brilliant things I've ever read! Lord, woman. You are on FIRE.
ReplyDeleteMan, I love that label (and song).
You made me smile on a difficult day, friend. Love you much. And thank you.
DeleteI am also having a difficult day. Let's sit on the couch, and have it together.
DeleteThis poem is something that deserves to be sung, glorious in its heartfelt imagery and tone. It should be written in letters of gold! I especially love; " lined red as velvet,
ReplyDeleteand home to a tiny part of yourself, lost, forever wandering, in need of an afterlife reunion with your heart." Exquisite write, Kerry!❤️
Thank you, Sanaa. I do appreciate your encouragement.
DeleteThe notion of a red-lined room inside one's own body is striking indeed, Kerry. Also enjoyed the quote.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Shay.
DeleteThank heaven for that red-lined treasure trove, where our secret beauty resides. Such a beautiful poem, Kerry. I imagine you see more than your share of children in pain, as a teacher.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed. It cannot be avoided. Thank you for this prompt, Sherry. This particular poem would not have been written without it.
DeleteA truly inspired poem!! I love it!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Annell.
DeleteSealed tighter than a canopic jar....I wonder where the parts of me are, probably cremated I am sure. A notion of death I have thought of before. I prefer to think of the rest of me, walking about and living. This is a remarkable poem. I am sorry you are having a difficult day. Let's sit and nibble on homemade scones and sip coffee. And I mean the real British scones, not the American horrors.
ReplyDeleteGood idea! I am glad you enjoyed the poem. Thanks.
DeleteThe Edge
ReplyDeleteThere is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over
Hunter S. Thompson
I sit with this piercing poem Kerry, and am reminded of this, one of my fave quotes - because the loss of which you write, the missing, the hole ... is really so close to the same skin, if not of the same body ...
and it's so difficult to find appropriate, actual words to express, translate, or transcribe the feelings, the sensations, the deep meaning of this ... and yet you have managed and executed this with absolute purity in perfection.
Each line, phrase, image you've conjured is exquisite, breath-taking and so sinuously painfully rendered ... this is truly an epic expression.
I am humbled by its depths, and blessed by your creative talents. Thank you.
(from one who has lived and been the edge, and beyond, and still is, incomplete for the hole that renders me less than ... whole)
A wonderful quote and a deeply touching comment. Thank you, Pat.
DeleteA brilliant insight, perfectly described. A poem I won't forget in a hurry.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rosemary.
DeleteIt's always good to be able to see scars differently. Good!
ReplyDeleteI love it, Kerry. Your first line reminded me of this:
ReplyDeleteI said: Pain and sorrow.
He said: Stay with it. The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
(Rumi)
Ah, that is so apt. thank you, kenia.
DeleteWhat a fine weaving of imagery and emotion - the embalming jars (I believe thats the jars - which usually have amazing art work on them) and the searching element in this is very moving - a search that won't come to anything if the seal remains...
ReplyDeleteecho the others. brilliant trope ~
ReplyDelete