She posted a new poem that might possibly be a response to
something I posted yesterday, about not getting what she wanted, but rather what
she deserves.
Her poem retraces steps she’s already taken before about not
wishing to have come down this path, and has the uncomfortable undertones of
her trickle up poem – but not so acute.
The poem talks about missed opportunities, things that
escaped her, while she was busy doing other things.
Paraphrasing, there comes in the shaken rafters a tiny sound,
a warning that came at a time when she did not hear it, and somewhere inside
her, it wandered around the years of failure, a wake-up call, which she clearly
missed, other things downing out the sound and her ability to perceive it, and
what she still wanted, but gone due to fear.
Somewhere over the long years, she must have warned herself to
change the course of her life, and she intended to, but that voice of warning got
lost in the greater din – some of which was fear.
While she continued to want salvation or another direction,
she seems to be saying that she was consumed by the dread of what might happen
if she did.
The use of the word of “insular” in her defeats also implies
distraction, a narrow mindedness and inward looking perspective on her part.
The poem is more than a little sad because it implies that
behind all the masks she wears, she is a person perfectly aware of who she is
and what she has become and what he is doing, and feels trapped doing anything
else.
This poem comes at a time when she has takend pause again,
and thought she might save herself, but seems to have gotten scared and goes
back and started back up the life she feels most comfortably living, and so,
she reponed her Facebook pae, and began once more to post photos.
While she isn’t opening this totally to unfriendly eyes
(such as mine), she seems determined to reach out to people she can keep on
keeping on.
From the start, she’s understood what we (I mean the collective)
need, and how we continue to need her, and she gives us superficial gifts
suited to each of us, feeding our former temporary boss’ ego, our owner’s lust
and others. We all continue to trail behind her, like broken crockery, we all
hoping somehow she can put us back together again, when she can’t.
She can’t even put the pieces of her own life together.
Looking back, she realizes there were warnings she might have
heeded had she not been consumed with her fear of things, fear of change, and
finds herself trapped in her own life.
No comments:
Post a Comment