A once-great psychist one claimed the study of an atom is a lot like trying to figure out how a watch works by never being able to open the watch to look.
I feel about the same when I try to figure how what is going on in her life when I read her poems.
The pattern of her poetry has changed dramatically from the summer when she seemed perpetually enraged at me.
Over the last few months, she seems to reflect frustration of being trapped in a life she did not intend to end up in, and the poem she posted today is more of the same.
In this, she continues what appears to be an internal dialogue with herself, if not so much trying to understand the reasons behind her internment (as was the case in the poem she posted last week), then more of a bitter commentary on her current condition, displaying an intense sense of melancholy, asking herself why she puts up with it all, sacrificing her immediate needs both financially as well her goals for the future.
What is her next stepping stone when she seems to be stuck in mid-stream?
At the same time, she tries to live her life trying not to think about her current condition, how much she sacrifices for other people when they clearly don’t appreciate her, even though what they do affects her daily life in every possible way – perhaps an allusion to one of her previous poems where one part of her is trying to get her to face facts.
She is bitter about her “head in sand” existence, and makes reference to her apparently role in helping “direct other people to Heaven” when those very people make her life a living hell..
Just whom she means remains a mystery.
She works for the Virgin Mayor and RR, and others. She may mean the other person she had a recent falling out with, but he or they have clearly drained her of her positivity as she wonders where her wonder went.
This is a very short poem that implies her role as sacrificing for other people who tend to treat her badly while she struggles to survive, trying to do the job while ignoring the abuses. This idea of living “hand to mouth” while hiding her head in the sand from the ugly truth that she is being used.
Why does she endure it?
Her poem seems to locate her troubles at her job, less at home, implying an unhealthy work place in what may also involve a personal relationship, perhaps mirroring somewhat some of what went on in our office when she was still employed here.
Again, we get the idea that she is playing the role of a loyal soldier, even though it is clear her efforts are unappreciated.
One can picture her dragging herself home to her lonely apartment where she ponders for how long she can put up with it all, bitter about her predicament, unable to stir up the passion she has relied upon in the past to inspire her to some new venture.
The poem’s music comes with vivid imagery such as in phrases like “hand to mouth,” “Head to sand,” “wonder where your wonder went,” and the clever phrases of “Directing people who put you through hell to heaven.”
Is she referring to the mayor she is trying to save, though the plural use of “people” implies more than one person, perhaps the inner circle for whom she works hard, but who abuse her.
She is clearly putting up with it all for far less money or credit than she thinks she deserves.
The poem asks why she put up with it, how does it suit her to sit there, barely surviving, pretending like things aren’t as bad as they are, helping people who don’t give her credit and in fact harangue her, and Ironically, she wonders where her inspiration went.
Life is still a struggle to survive.
More and more she reminds me of Marylin Monroe and Princess Diana, women who have given their all, only to get used and discarded. It’s taken me time, but I’ve come around to sympathizing with her situation.
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