Where My Loneliness Goes {2 of 2}
· 👯 sister to the loneliness poem + view from mountaintop 🖼️ ·
“In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?” ~ Pablo Neruda
Whenever I mention that I’m a poet—or that I’m a writer, but refer to poetry as my primary genre—I find that folks often follow up with one of two questions... One of them is, “What kind of poetry do you write?” and the other, even more anxiety inducing one is, “What are your poems about?” Sometimes I do sense a genuine interest in the response—but most of the time it feels like I’ve just been tasked with providing a streamlined elevator pitch for reading poetry in a world encouraging us to do anything but.
As a result, I’ve had to resist the urge to answer (rather flippantly, I’ll admit) that my poems are about everything and nothing—which, to be honest, feels closer to the truth (or at least more succinct) than getting into a conversation about whichever existential subject I’m currently exploring. Yet when I take an honest look at the pieces I’ve polished and published, I do see certain themes which either feel entirely cliche or are embarrassing to admit aloud to another stranger I’m profiling as a potential reader…
For example, I find that I write a lot about loneliness.
I’ve already spent so much of my journey hiding behind my words—which was necessary in order to be able to hear my voice clearly above the others—that lately I’ve been less interested in acquiring readers than I have been in letting them in behind the scenes... I already posted the list poem from my book oddly titled, “What My Loneliness Does” but today I wanted to feature what I fondly call its sister—or, one that came out immediately afterwards like a response to the haunting call of the first… They belong together.
I shouldn’t neglect to mention how influenced both of these pieces were by Pablo Neruda’s final masterpiece The Book of Questions, but I would rather save gushing about that gem of a book for another day. It seems everybody is lonely nowadays—with some even calling it an epidemic in our country—yet the news comes as little to no surprise in this digital age of social media, distancing, and anxieties. Reading taught me that loneliness can also be a beautiful state of being—one that engenders exploration and self-expression.
One that can help make us come alive to ourselves… 🤍
~ Where My Loneliness Goes ~
Pace sideways, on
pointed crab feet.
Skin me. Like the quick tongue
of a hunting knife.
Curl the floorboards.
Open like a sail and let the wind
fill it, like a man given to belly.
Migrate through my body,
to it’s warmer parts.
Wear the mouth of a blow up doll.
Father the bees.
Grow roots, then teeth.
Like the snow, blanket
softly everything.
Unfold the days. Fold them
up again into paper cranes.