The Finishing Project: Installment Three
Perambulating
They say Cancers lean toward hyperbole.
A making of something out of nothing.
A life-threatening walk in the Sahara or an arduous walk to the library with a faulty baby carrier.
It's all the same to me.
Or to my imagination.
There are similarities, I swear!
The unforgiving sun penetrating coveringcloth,
The mercilessly steep and endless uphills.
The body's screams of musclemaddness and throat angst.
The carrying of a heavy, crying, overexposed child.
The desperation of knowing that I have no other choice
than to do exactly what I don't want to do.
Which is to press on.
Knowing that there is no one else to save us,
that this time we have to make it home on our own strength.
Still naively believing that if I plead enough,
Someone, somewhere will rescue me.
Then the after annoyance of accomplishing it,
The moving-on dishonors, invalidates.
We walk together,
You and I.
Kind and hateful memories will me on.
3 comments:
I love your kennings in this.
While what I am facing is not the transition of motherhood, your poem speaks to me very deeply and gives me strength to know others are working through similar emotions.
i like this last line a lot. i like your honesty and how you work with language.
i've been stalking your blog here and there, and i've been doing the finishing project along with you this week. ! great idea, thanks! i try to write every day, so this project has been a nice refresher.
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