Confession

      after the waterboarding

When a promise broke me
I was ready to confess
to the darkest thoughts
just to clear my head

I was ready to be lifted
by my own explosive charges
simply for the rush
of air back into my lungs

I was ready to hang
by my own rope
if only to feel the steadying
pull of the earth again

& I confess
their promise was nothing other
than that the atrocious weather
would change

& it did
I have been changed
into something
I do not know
__________

[Poetry Thursday - dead link]

The challenge this week was to begin a poem with the last line of another poem. I used the last line from today’s poem at Poetry Daily, Promise, by Judson Mitcham.

Filed in Personal/Political, Poems & poem-like things. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.Print Print

11 Responses to Confession

  1. Oh, just lovely! I read it through several times just enjoying the feel of the words. A moving piece.

  2. Clare says:

    Really nice flow and imagery. And the last lines “I have been changed/ into something/ I do not know” really touched me, deeply.

  3. gautami says:

    Like the promises and changing weather analogy..

  4. Brett says:

    Topical and important poem. I was moved by the part about the desire to feel gravity again, even if while hanging.

  5. Dave says:

    This Girl – Thanks. I enjoyed making the acquaintance of your own blog and stunning photography.

    Clare, gautami, and Brett – Thanks for the comments. I really labored over this one, and the subject is decidedly grim, so I’m awfully glad to hear that it resonated with you all.

  6. Tumblewords says:

    Well done. Delicious flow and nicely rhythm’d.

  7. dale says:

    Am I the only person who found this a distressing poem to read? :-)

  8. Dave says:

    Tumblewords – Thanks.

    dale – I sure as hell hope not.

  9. maria says:

    add me to the list of those for whom this resonated… I liked the fact that you did not use any punctuation (it made it “grimmer”; but then, grim has never been a problem for me)

  10. Fred Garber says:

    I must confess that I like this poem. Confession whether coerced or not can be an agent of change.

Leave a Reply

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

URLs are converted to links, and three or more links in one comment will cause it to be sent to the moderation queue. Constructive criticism is always welcome. You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

  • Smorgasblog

    • Metaphors for the Moon
      Early marriage is a wetland, a marsh
      of co-mingling reeds, breeding birds.

    • Cleaning My Attic
      Cast-iron Royal, weighty and not regal at all but seriously proletarian, ostensibly portable in your anonymous black case: my secret unmusical instrument, which I lugged to cafes before they were wireless or even wired...

    • Clumps and Voids
      The program description, however, devolves into the fey. "The lingam (or linga) is a cylindrical votary object that represents the Hindu god Shiva, and a dispute about its meaning has been going on for many centuries." When a phallus is tagged with the museum label of "cylindrical votary object," I lose hope that the speaker will be introduced as Professor Wendy Doniger: don of dongs.

    • botanizing
      On calm days, the soil swirls and rises in isolated twisters. On a windy day when the wheat is being harvested — a day like today — the soil lifts like a yellow curtain, obliterating the sky.

    • The Twitching Line
      My uncle, gutting a fish:
      removing the fins from either side,
      tipping the knife below

      the little anus, pointing the tail-
      end away, slitting it to the gills,
      then plunging in a hand

      to scoop the organs out, soft
      and scarlet as a litter of kittens.

    • The Ordinary and the Wild
      I had a dream the other night about a tall machine, like a crane or an android giraffe, lanky with angles of metal that reach up to the sky when they should somehow be digging. When I woke I felt taller for a moment, and also deeper, as if the soles of my feet had met up with some spilled honey or errant tar while I walked in my sleep.

    • Busily Seeking... Continual Change
      So the mountain was steep? I threw a couple of windbreakers, yogurts and miscellaneous snacks (really, whatever I could lay my hands on at the last minute), wallet, phone, bottles of water--yes, just the things I thought to grab into a new REI bright yellow daypack--and off we went. That was it. Toss things in a bag and go.

    • Chatoyance
      And on the other side, what I
      set in motion: the open field, the low hill,
      a crease scored in bent blades of grass
      where I forgot the wall stood,
      my footsteps blurring as the
      grass unbends.

    • Velveteen Rabbi
      There are trade-offs: in the womb we knew perfect intimacy, but couldn't meet. Now we are separate, which is at once the source of loneliness (especially for him, I'm guessing) and the source of our ability to connect.

    • Will Buckingham
      My small guide and I then did our double-act of worshipping at the shrine, at which point the monk then declared that, once again, I was not doing it right. There followed another twenty minute lesson in proper bowing -- different from the previous lesson, in fact -- and if I have retained anything it is that one’s feet must be aligned like the lines in the number 8 -- an auspicious number in China.

  • "On the whole I concentrated on things and people that I found charming and splendid; my notes are also full of poems and observations on trees and plants, birds and insects."
    — Sei Shonagon, 994 A.D.

`