Since I mention the scribe poem over and over again in these pages, I should look back at it again, just to make certain that it says what I thought it said when I fire wrote about it – since it is the poem that has sent me scurrying to reexamine other of her poems I had first assumed had nothing to do with me (and may still not).
Because my first take (second and third takes as well) made the assumption that this poem was aimed at me, I’m going to take a giant step back and evaluate the poem more objectively, making no such assumptions about who it is dedicated to, and focus entirely on what exactly she is saying, and possibly why.
The poem is about writing, about creating a world out of words that others may not have the talent or vision to do.
These poets make sense of a world that “normal” people might not – and here she seems to begin a theme that she will return to later, about what is worth fighting for – the good fight – or worth putting into words, as she puts it.
Most people don’t have the words or the sensibility to “describe things adequately.”
She as poet pushes on, frustrated by her inability to describe the absurdity that is her life, while at the same time grateful.
She is a writer that “scribes” and “describes” for a living, always struggling to make that living.
She is “the rock” or stalwart for those too scared or underpaid as she is.
This reference seems odd coming at the time it does, since she really isn’t making a living as a writer at the moment, and it almost seems as if she is drawing on experiences from when she was still at the office – which would give the poem more relevance, since she sees someone – the person to whom she is writing as standing in her way, and she manages to achieve anyway.
This is the confusion of the poem, as if it is a time warp, something – like the circa 2003 poem – written in the past, but posted now, making reference to conditions that are no longer valid, but were valid once when she worked with us.
It is almost as if she is writing about what was last summer or before, rather than what it is contemporary, perhaps looking back in bitterness or resentfully at what might have been.
Since she uses the word “we” early on in the poem as part of a cabala of poets, the person to whom she is writing the poem is clearly a writer or a poet as well.
The poem shifts in point of view from a collect “we” to “I” and finally an accusatory “you.”
The “we” are members of the unique tribe that struggles to use words to make sense of the world, standing up for righteousness, even when “normal” people lack vision to see what the world is truly about. But the poem shifts to her as poet struggling and not always successfully using her word talent to make sense of her own life, and the struggle she goes through to make a living. The final shift attacks the other person, who she believes tried his best to prevent her from getting what she wants or deserves.
This is why it is easy to interpret this poem as a shot at me, a testimony of defiance, saying she has succeeded (after a fashion) despite all the person she is writing to has done to stop her.
Again, the poem comes at an odd time, following a number of unrelated poems, some about heart break and others possibly connecting to this sense of resentment.
Since reading this for the first time, I been searching for something that might have triggered this sudden outburst, but realize it may simply be her looking back or maybe even an older poem written at the height of our conflict.
I tend to dismiss the idea that she might have had a more recent conflict with another writer or poet to whom she is writing this poem, someone who might have stood in her way as she believes I have.
The incongruity of the poem comes from several references -- the claim that she is still making her living as a writer, when she is not, and by the fact that she perceives herself as underpaid as she claimed (with serious evidence to support her claim) she was underpaid.
Then we get an extremely complex line that includes a sarcastic thanks “for the opportunity to be all that you hope I wasn’t,” followed by her gratitude to be able to “write it word for word, when you fight so hard to deny it. You make me thankful for who I am.”
I’m not certain as to her intent. On one hand, she is grateful for her ability to have her say, even when the person she is writing to tried to squash her ability.
The poem suggests that she managed to write the truth, despite his claims contrary.
There is a possible more positive if also personally painful light, suggesting that the person to whom she is writing the poem – by the mere fact that he is out there somewhere has allowed her to admit who and what she is (back to the redemption poem of fair and unfair) even when someone might have wished it wasn’t true, and wanted it not to be, and yet by letting write it (perhaps causing her to write it) he or me or whomever gave her the ability to be grateful for whom she actually is.
A more negative angle evokes the idea that she believes he – the person she is writing to – has tried to reshape her reality, and because she is a writer, too, she was able to get her truth told despite his tale telling. This seems to be born out in other poems she previously wrote.
The poem is structured in three basic settings, the opening that refers to them both as part of a special breed of wordsmith, followed by her personal struggle to tell her story and earn her living, and ending with her boasting about being able to get her truth told despite him.
Although I’ve isolated this poem, you can’t ignore the four or five poems she posted within four days, many of which depicting pending pain, some of which allude to the aftermath of her affair. Perhaps this scribe poem is about her failed love, and the man who has severed connection with is also a writer or poet, part of the cabala of special word smiths who are tasked with documenting the world, when normal people can’t.
But the other poems suggest an emotional panic, perhaps a vision of her world coming to an end, highlighted perhaps by the legal troubles of the Virgin Mayor upon which her economics depends.
Hard to tell.
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