The other day I was reading a poem by Sylvia Plath. Mad Girls Love Song. Then I listened to a YouTube audio of someone reading it. I drifted away, and wrote this poem. I often do compose these sorts of poems on a moment. I’ll share this one. Unedited so beware:)
An Abstract Villanelle
When do they start and where? Those surface cracks. On a vessel. Unnoticed. Except by the vessel.
When do they break and how? Those surface cracks.
Until Broken pieces of a vessel fall.
Let them stay lying there broken pieces of vessel to be discovered but on another day.
Driving to my first day at a new job. Thinking “this must be some joke thing like War of the Worlds that keeps coming on the radio”. Turning the radio off. Thinking “this is really a disgusting joke”. Arriving to the office. Finding out. Grieving. Still.
Inside the poet is a fire and, depending on where a spark may land, comes the light of an unexpected gift. A silent void anyone can reach differently.
Listening to this song today. John Prine. Just a great songwriter. Thinking about the core values of the words. And “little pictures have big ears” and, what exactly the “gold”is ,today, that might soothe a person. And my grandchildren – being raised with ‘first hand’ values rather than ‘ second hand’ ones no longer relevant for their times.
And I just don’t know. So much shit happening, in our country, the last two week. It’s scary. Yesterday, I helped my grandkids out the pool and bundled them in towels and held them close and thought how difficult the future would be for them and hoped for something better than today.
But I don’t feel hopeful that living in a world – like today’s – will be better for them…