Into water

There was grief in the last time I was myself

long-faced, retroussé nose, thick hair

broad shouldered from swimming away

cutting through water, weightless

not carrying your stare, your aprobation, your disregard

if ignored, let us ignore better, make an art of failure

suck the pipe, squeeze the last drop, inject, pop

those blue pills, as blue as you made me feel

psychiatry says nobody can make you feel anything

you choose

did you choose to feel nothing and by nothing

cause my center to crush softly inward

like the river flowers we press in our books

before you were born

carried over generation from generation

I laid in the grass wondering why

no lover had sought to please me

and the boughs of the trees revealed themselves

as my hand wandered back and forth

drenched in sweat

for who can satisfy a tin box with its lid hammered shut

who can know the heart of a girl who is told before she can walk

she isn’t enough, she’ll never be near sufficient

then you walked out of the river

green and shining like forested afterbirth

you did not care about forms and structure

spelling and photographic reproduction

you had a tongue and eyes and hands

like a thought with action

you claimed me beneath alders and pine

stretching so high, embracing unseen faith

I became a woman that day

crying out beneath your stones and mud and lillies

as white as an urge

with pink in the center

craving to crest in sun

and fall wilted back into water

14 thoughts on “Into water

  1. Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
    TheFeatheredSleep – A poem rife with changes, reminding me of verse from “Changes”, a song by Phil Ochs:

    “Passions will part to a strange melody.
    As fires will sometimes burn cold.
    Like petals in the wind, we’re puppets to the silver
    strings of souls, of changes.”

  2. Longing can bee an indescribable, nagging ache, but you always describe it so well.

    “for who can satisfy a tin box with its lid hammered shut

    who can know the heart of a girl who is told before she can walk

    she isn’t enough, she’ll never be near sufficient

    then you walked out of the river

    green and shining like forested afterbirth”

    This is powerful writing, Candice.

  3. *sighs* “be” is misspelled. Stinking autocorrect.

    You’re most welcome. I emailed you. I hope today is being kind to you.

  4. As I’ve said over and over again you are so gifted to tell your stories and make us fully feel what it was like to live through such things!!!! There is no going back for any of us no matter how much we plead that we want ours lives back! BUT the strengths and wisdoms gained is more than enough to make a good life still attainable! 🙂 ❤ xoxoxoxoxo

  5. You are so right in all you say. I like that I cannot go back I can only go forward. So often we are told not to ‘go there’ and think of the past but I think the past informs us and carries us into the future. You have shown me the value of insight and wisdom.

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