Extraordinary what you've honed in on with so few words, Mary.
Ahh... yes. Survival is not healing, and survival is not really living but sometimes we settle for that.
Will she hear me
if I talk of freedom through fire,
that blessed element
of transformation,
a furnace
called forgiveness
that cracks apart
even the densest of stones?
I hope she does.
Good that you remember the girl 'whose face danced with mischief.' A witness who really knows and loves us is a reflection we can't really ignore. I feel your poem is calling her to her more essential self, and what a beautiful thing to do.
Well that was probably the most synchronicitous arrival of an article I have yet experienced, dealing as it does with the kernel of a 2 hour conversation with a friend finished barely an hour ago.
Ah, yes, Mary. Healing is such an elusive thing. "I healed from this. I healed from that." But life is constantly evolving from moment to moment. Our past rears its (sometimes ugly) head and in the blink of an eye we can come undone again. Plus, we are all built so differently and how we "deal/heal/survive" can be worlds apart from others.
That was lovely and exactly how I feel. Did you step into my dreams and pluck from my past? From how I feel in the present? Because that is spot on. We all step through what we have to, to make us who we are today. And how we deal with our past, as a crutch or a catapult to conscious growth? That is our foundational character and something that can be learned despite genetic predisposition to head for the "Poor Me" ship of fools. ♥♥♥ to you MPM
I hear the word survival being thrown around a lot recently...yet what do we do after we survive? What is survival really mean, if it's at the expense of compromising our values and degrading our soul?
Soul survival is the ultimate way to prepare for when the spiritual sh*t hits the fan.
I love how you said "her eyes danced with mischief...."
Everyone has already said it all, but I had a similar breakup with a friend that caused me to seek help, which was my "freedom through fire". My emotions were off the charts, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I've tried a number of times to reconcile with her and no luck. And going through what I went through was the last thing she wanted to do. After all, I was the one with the problem. So, there's nothing else I can do at this point, but it still hurts. Thanks, Mary, beautiful, deep piece of poetry. xox
Feb 26·edited Feb 26Liked by Mary Poindexter McLaughlin
Healing is a lifelong process that comes & goes in tides & waves. And earthquakes trigger tidal waves.
Timing for this was interesting. I had just had a dream that I was in a shopping mall or village. There was some kind of delay announced. My parents & sisters appeared & my father went on a nasty rant, "As soon as I heard there was a delay I knew it is was you...."
I woke up before I could hear the rest.
2 nights later he returned, but before he could start in I was screaming, "You killed my boy! You killed my boy!" Shrill, piercing high-pitched needle voice. He flew back & away away like a balloon blown up & released untied. A demon blowing hot air.
Because he was complicit. When witnesses came forward, he tried to blame them. When that blew up in his face, he blamed me. And my mother & sister joined in...
Ah, friendships 're like iron filin's ain't they? Some stick ta that ol' horseshoe magnet thru all kinds a weather, all kinds of hot/cold/frost an' do so even when the magnet don't barely touch it--just' passin' by with the thing, the pull is so easily repeated even after years past if somehow there's a mechanical--vs deeper--separation, the mem'ry of the long-ago forces of chaste but mighty magnetic attraction--with many filin's always clingin' to the thing... BUT one degaussin' wipe, one anti-platonic "e.m.p." on the whole affair (as opposed ta the neutral mechanical kind'a relocation separation) kin near-wreck that magnet, sever the pull, scatter them filin's (an' the thoughts filed away too!)--even with some tiny bits wanna keep the ol' pull, hopin' the furness--'er warm soft fur-ness--of forgivness 'll re-instate the bond, the shared good luck horseshoe that once seemed so simple, so elegant, a given...
Yup, been there too...an' I also member dancin' faces whose mem'ry just leaves a faint impression of.... gravity...
that said... I do hope it works out... kin we make up a word, "regauss?" ;-)
Survival is not healing...those are the words that stopped me.
I wonder...is this really true? Healing, of course, implies repairing something that is damaged. Perhaps in that moment of reparation, something can continue existing despite conditions that might destroy it. Maybe it is love...a familiar story told throughout the ages of love that’s been damaged through neglect. And maybe, despite harsh conditions and hurtful words, love can emerge anew – it survives...and heals.
But then I re-read your words and began to think some more. I recalled the last words my mother spoke to me. They were hurtful and cruel – they pierced my soul. I’ve survived many years since that moment in the sanitized hospital room, but the damage was thorough and never really felt repaired. I tried forgiveness...but really, what was I forgiving? And so, I offer myself as evidence of surviving without healing...so far, anyway...
Extraordinary what you've honed in on with so few words, Mary.
Ahh... yes. Survival is not healing, and survival is not really living but sometimes we settle for that.
Will she hear me
if I talk of freedom through fire,
that blessed element
of transformation,
a furnace
called forgiveness
that cracks apart
even the densest of stones?
I hope she does.
Good that you remember the girl 'whose face danced with mischief.' A witness who really knows and loves us is a reflection we can't really ignore. I feel your poem is calling her to her more essential self, and what a beautiful thing to do.
Loved this.
Well that was probably the most synchronicitous arrival of an article I have yet experienced, dealing as it does with the kernel of a 2 hour conversation with a friend finished barely an hour ago.
Thank you.
Ah, yes, Mary. Healing is such an elusive thing. "I healed from this. I healed from that." But life is constantly evolving from moment to moment. Our past rears its (sometimes ugly) head and in the blink of an eye we can come undone again. Plus, we are all built so differently and how we "deal/heal/survive" can be worlds apart from others.
Beautiful piece. Lots to reflect on. XO
That was lovely and exactly how I feel. Did you step into my dreams and pluck from my past? From how I feel in the present? Because that is spot on. We all step through what we have to, to make us who we are today. And how we deal with our past, as a crutch or a catapult to conscious growth? That is our foundational character and something that can be learned despite genetic predisposition to head for the "Poor Me" ship of fools. ♥♥♥ to you MPM
I hear the word survival being thrown around a lot recently...yet what do we do after we survive? What is survival really mean, if it's at the expense of compromising our values and degrading our soul?
Soul survival is the ultimate way to prepare for when the spiritual sh*t hits the fan.
I love how you said "her eyes danced with mischief...."
Thanks for shining bright for us all Mary.
Everyone has already said it all, but I had a similar breakup with a friend that caused me to seek help, which was my "freedom through fire". My emotions were off the charts, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I've tried a number of times to reconcile with her and no luck. And going through what I went through was the last thing she wanted to do. After all, I was the one with the problem. So, there's nothing else I can do at this point, but it still hurts. Thanks, Mary, beautiful, deep piece of poetry. xox
"for I too
have carried the weight
of unwanted souvenir stones"
Wow - you've done it again - put into words so much that so many of us feel/have felt/will feel.
"a furnace called forgiveness" - been going through that one recently and only barely singed from it...
Thank you for this poem!
Here’s to more open armed, unbounded girls running free!
Healing is a lifelong process that comes & goes in tides & waves. And earthquakes trigger tidal waves.
Timing for this was interesting. I had just had a dream that I was in a shopping mall or village. There was some kind of delay announced. My parents & sisters appeared & my father went on a nasty rant, "As soon as I heard there was a delay I knew it is was you...."
I woke up before I could hear the rest.
2 nights later he returned, but before he could start in I was screaming, "You killed my boy! You killed my boy!" Shrill, piercing high-pitched needle voice. He flew back & away away like a balloon blown up & released untied. A demon blowing hot air.
Because he was complicit. When witnesses came forward, he tried to blame them. When that blew up in his face, he blamed me. And my mother & sister joined in...
Ah, friendships 're like iron filin's ain't they? Some stick ta that ol' horseshoe magnet thru all kinds a weather, all kinds of hot/cold/frost an' do so even when the magnet don't barely touch it--just' passin' by with the thing, the pull is so easily repeated even after years past if somehow there's a mechanical--vs deeper--separation, the mem'ry of the long-ago forces of chaste but mighty magnetic attraction--with many filin's always clingin' to the thing... BUT one degaussin' wipe, one anti-platonic "e.m.p." on the whole affair (as opposed ta the neutral mechanical kind'a relocation separation) kin near-wreck that magnet, sever the pull, scatter them filin's (an' the thoughts filed away too!)--even with some tiny bits wanna keep the ol' pull, hopin' the furness--'er warm soft fur-ness--of forgivness 'll re-instate the bond, the shared good luck horseshoe that once seemed so simple, so elegant, a given...
Yup, been there too...an' I also member dancin' faces whose mem'ry just leaves a faint impression of.... gravity...
that said... I do hope it works out... kin we make up a word, "regauss?" ;-)
Survival is not healing...those are the words that stopped me.
I wonder...is this really true? Healing, of course, implies repairing something that is damaged. Perhaps in that moment of reparation, something can continue existing despite conditions that might destroy it. Maybe it is love...a familiar story told throughout the ages of love that’s been damaged through neglect. And maybe, despite harsh conditions and hurtful words, love can emerge anew – it survives...and heals.
But then I re-read your words and began to think some more. I recalled the last words my mother spoke to me. They were hurtful and cruel – they pierced my soul. I’ve survived many years since that moment in the sanitized hospital room, but the damage was thorough and never really felt repaired. I tried forgiveness...but really, what was I forgiving? And so, I offer myself as evidence of surviving without healing...so far, anyway...