A prose poem for Michael
What lives inside you defines you.
Words that pierce us with stinging cruelty, shocking images seared into memory, or simply feelings that spring up like weeds through the pavement – battle them boldly into powerlessness.
Only in laboring to vanquish pain will pain stop having dominion.
What lives inside you defines you.
Pain drives splinters into our living flesh. Splinters remind us of the violence that created them. Splinters may never be removed but they can be smoothed over, by the hand trained to do it. Pull them out if possible, with guidance from a therapist.
If therapy proves elusive, rub the place and examine each splinter, making it smaller. The screaming voice. The slap. The search for mama in a vast store. The panic when the teacher talked gibberish. The fear of being unworthy of a kiss. The fear of anyone seeing your naked legs. The bills that cannot be fully paid. The hospital beds and the funerals. The roomful of eyes staring. The exhaustion. The grief. The hopelessness. We all know these.
Then there are the bigger ones that challenge us particularly; a terrible interior slide show. I am 9 years old, watching in shock as the dirt falls on my grandfather’s coffin; I am 14 years old, confused by the aftermath of a massive stroke that felled my tiny grandmother; I am 34 years old, desperate for morphine for my dying father; I am 47 years old, laid off from my job; I am 58 years old and I must send my mother to the hospital alone to die of Covid.
Erasing massive memories often proves impossible. Even sanding the small splinters is the work of a lifetime. Remembering is essential, though. Numbness grows the pain.
What lives inside you defines you.
If you are lucky enough to survive for as many as six decades you may discover something. Even though erasing memories may prove impossible, you can crowd them out of importance. The sight of waves, advancing and retreating timelessly. The pure gold joy of a baby laughing. The velvety texture of fur beneath my caressing hand. The smell of cake in the oven. The taste of dinner prepared for me with love.
Knife memories may be dulled by the simple weight of beautiful ones. Grow beauty deliberately, with care. Seek it out every day. Notice the daffodils poking up bravely into the February air. Notice the sky, wrapping us in a bowl of color. Notice the love in a friend’s eyes and advance it into a hug. Notice smiles and smile back.
What lives inside you defines you.
Note: I used to write a lot of poetry but this is the first poem I've written in years. Sometimes a poem is the only real way to express what's in my heart. I was inspired to write this while watching a documentary about the writer Kurt Vonnegut. He saw terrible things in World War II, but much of his work was humorous.
