N.B. I’ve tried multiple times to start posts, and sometimes the only way to describe how you feel about something is through a poem. I’ve thought about numerous things today: faith, power, access, care, healing, life, teaching, and the ability to reach out for help. The only complete writing I’ve yielded from all that is this poem. Trigger warning for the imagery — there are allusions to blood and cutting. –MP
in the now,
bloodletting is
a vital solution–
for worlds that
don’t know how to
make you
feel right–
if i can’t heal
and i blanch–
if i stop moving
through dooms of love,
haves of give,
i’ll save you a vein
for all your trouble–
grab disposable razors:
scratch the skins
of the problem–
watch your questions
drip away,
puddle,
spread–
do you answer to your scars?
remember the days
doctors did the cutting
for you–
there is a wrongness,
they said,
let me count the drops–
until it passes,
until you pass away
let me count the drops –
being in the red,
gauze taped to flesh,
the lightness of
bloody being–
every cc mg and ml
will carry in it
a maroon moon song–
the heart is the drum,
the veins a house band,
the life the loudspeaker,
let me count the drops–
Could you please put up a content warning for this? I was triggered by this piece and would like to avoid this happening to anyone else.
i agree with the trigger warning. i was also triggered and my anxiety rose as i read. thx.
Added a trigger warning; my apologies.
this really speaks to me and some of my experience too. i’ve definitely been thinking lately about soul healing, recovering from traumas, moving forward. but to get to the “forward” movement, we have to start in the now and this poem is very real.
I feel like your writing, especially your poems, always say something to me – “speak” to me, as Aaminah says. This poem also says something *for* me, especially right now. I love you and love that you put this here.
this is gorgeous. i am seconding joan. i am so glad that you put this here. thank you for opening the space.
Some say
Feminist
ain’t something
to pretend to be
unless you are.
and I am.
Some say
It ain’t no
Fashion Statement
if in fact,
the afflicted aren’t
Enthralled with its novelty
and I for one
am no fan of identities
with price tags
and sell by dates
even if your eyes
your ears
and your heart
are open
sometimes
you’ll start out
wishing that part of you
had a shelf life
shorter than milk
to be poured away
when Feminism
became too hazardous
to consume.
This poem feels like a gift, Monchel – in part because it opens up a window on what is, for me, an unfamiliar world. Yet the more times I read it the more I realize that though the particulars are unfamiliar, the essence, I guess, of what you are saying fits like an well-worn robe.
Thank you very much for your comments of support and understanding, and thank you Comrade Kevin for feeling free to post a poem here. It’s helping me figure out what I want to bring to the table next and how I want to present it.
This is an excellent, powerful poem. Thanks so much for sharing it with us.
I love this poem. A lot. In fact I read it last night and I’ve been thinking about it all day, and the rawness, the submission, the fear and the bravery all tied up together. I love the cummings reference, like it’s a coda to, an echo of, the original poem which was also about submission and bravery.
This:
do you answer to your scars?
remember the days
doctors did the cutting
for you–
there is a wrongness,
they said,
is fucking brilliant.
I have a thesis:
You don’t
know
pain.
You don’t know
pain
if you can ignore it.
You don’t know
pain
if to you
pain
is just an
inconvenience.
You don’t know
pain
if you think
pain
will make you stronger.
No.
No.
No. You do not know
pain.
You don’t know
pain
until
pain
breaks you.
Until
pain
has left you
a stranger
in your own
mirror.
Until
pain
has left
cracks
in your
mind
that do not seal.
Until
pain
has left
voids
in your
soul
where the
emptiness
can stare
back.
You will only know
pain
when you know that
pain
just
hurts.
Then you’ll know
all you need to know
about
pain.
Then all you’ll
want
is for the
pain
to stop.
[...] pain and suffering and who feels they have the right to judge it, greatly galvanized by having read this poem. Thinking about Frida Kahlo a lot, and about Pema Chödrön’s teachings on suffering. Also [...]