The Poet

First published in The Evolution Of Disconnect:

 

In April of 2014 I had the great opportunity to have a few of my poems critiqued by a gracious and exceptional poet. She highlighted a few of my weaknesses and offered up some great advice to chew on. The focal point of our conversation narrowed down to the poem, Two Doors, about the conflict between the conscious and subconscious mind. In the poem there is a house divided by two doors. One side of the house is brilliantly lit while the other side remains in perpetual darkness. My poet/ tutor was not concerned with the lighted side of the house. She (and any potential reader) only cares about the mysteries hidden in the darkness. What she was conveying, essentially, was that I should stop glossing over facts and events and dig a little deeper for the story. I took her advice to heart and the following day wrote this poem.

 

THE POET

 

On a balcony overlooking a paradox

she offers and I take a seat

a teacher and a poet in a long black dress

shuffling pieces of me in her hands

 

Questions she asks

prodding with a smile

searching perhaps for something

she believes words can reconcile

 

Knowing I’m just another surface dweller

the poet scratches my soul

you’re going to need a shovel, she says

to get where you want to go

 

No one cares about objects shining brightly in a noonday sun

objects plainly seen by everyone

she asks about my house

why I only go into rooms where the light is on

 

Her penetrating words finger switches

and once darkened rooms reveal decaying corpses

chests inflating with the breath of recognition

mouths repeating lessons learned

 

Having trained the emotions through the years

how can I begin to describe what she wants to hear?

the look on my mother’s face, how can I forget?

that haunted expression she wore, when I told her what I knew

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