I’ll conclude this volume of my journal by one more revisit to one of her most recent controversial and angry poems, which I have analyzed previously, but need to look at more closely one more time before moving on.
As suggested one of my previous entries, she implies that much of the drama that is currently going on in and around her life may well be manufactured, most likely by those who have nothing to do but cause trouble
Enter Snagglepuss stage right.
My first impression of this poem is that she may be seeking a scapegoat in the ever deteriorating atmosphere on her current public world, people inside getting nervous about the outcome of a criminal trial that could negatively affect all of their lives. She may need someone to blame or at least something to distract her attention for a while, and thus we get a flash back to a more personal time last spring and all the trouble I caused with our former temporary boss.
The poem may well reflect her panic, even though in some ways, I suspect she is exaggerating how bad the situation really is.
The poem may be a reaction to her own growing vulnerability or may well be one undisguised sign of growing rage inside her that has resurfaced over the last few weeks, percolating behind several poems, some of which may have even seemed too nice or too needy.
My own paranoia makes me think all her poems have something to do with me (when they clearly don’t) and I imagine her laying a poetic trap that might get me to respond and thus expose this “clever and illusive imp” to prove something about me she has been telling her compatriots, but few of them believe.
I’m always fearful of booby traps even when I actually believe she really isn’t out to get me, the way this poem suggests someone (possibly me) might be out to get her.
One has to separate fearful delusion from fact, and in this case, I’m hesitant to believe she is laying traps and that the poem is exclusively aimed at me. Someone in her position makes a lot of enemies, and this poem might well be about anyone or even nobody specific.
In this poem, she seems to suggest that she is shadow boxing, fighting against lies and distortions but with no way to get at the culprit.
As with a previous poem, this one seeks to establish personal strength amid her weaknesses, and attempts to down play the impression on the outside world that her world is in chaos.
Things are bad in town hall, and only the core group can survive, cheering each other on with false bravado.
She said she should be used to being the target, and having someone hiding behind the current to pounce and make the audience chuckle, and the hero cringe.
The show must go on, even if there really isn’t a show, but the vivid imagination of people who watch and wait, feigning sympathy, basing opinions on conjecture, people who think they know what’s going on when they really don’t, voyeuristic vultures, part of the sadistic crowd who would feed Christians to the Lions for the entertainment.
She admits change is necessary, but she isn’t going to bend to their imposition of guilt, though she will fight when she has to against lies and fearmongering, refusing to become the bait of somebody else’s sadistic pleasure.
The rage in the poem is unmistakable, returning to a tone of voice she had frequently used last summer. It is full of defiance and outrage, but no longer as someone on a winning team. She is accusing someone (possibly me) of being petty and vindictive.
But again, this all seems to come out of nowhere since there has been no direct contact since October and no clear motive for why she needs to last out now.
She has repositioned herself again as a victim, someone who is barely making her way in the world and is being waylaid by wolves on the way to grandma’s house, rather than the political insider who has operated during her time in our office and since.
She pictures herself as under attack, the subject of rumors and speculation, something she said she ought to be used to, and yet, she clearly feels wounded by it all.
I’m not saying the poem is about me, but it feels like it is, implying that I am lurking behind every tree ready to pounce on her.
There is some evidence to suggest I am the target of the poem, such as her use of the term “sweet refrain,” when she says, “I am a certain thing that does not bend beneath the sweet refrain of guilt,” possibly referring to poems and music I’ve posted.
The poem continues a theme that she started several weeks ago, continuing the concept that she is the victim, and that she must remain true to her mission – whatever that might be.
Again, I am struck by the idea that she is communicating, only I don’t completely understand or trust it.
As the rock song once said, “Love is a mine field,” but then so is hate, and the best response to this poem it to stay silent and try not to post anything she might misinterpret as a response. The last thing I need to do is set off a mine accidentally, or even intentionally.
Somehow, I get the feeling that we are indeed back where we started and that’s not a good place to be.
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