Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Wake Up Little Amy, Wake Up

I must surely be on the way to a healthier psyche to be writing again.  For far too long I have felt like either I had nothing important to say or like I was too tired of hearing myself say the same old things over and over to keep repeating them.  Today, for the first time, I was able to write a poem again.  I will include it here at the end of this entry.  I'm sure these entries will seem disjointed and unedited (because they are), but as I begin to understand and realize things about myself, I am going to note them here for my own benefit, if for no one else's.

Jeff stresses often to me the importance of always being hopeful in every situation.  While I can rationally understand this viewpoint, it's not easy for me to be hopeful because so many times over the course of my adult life, the things I hoped for were the opposite of the things that happened.  I am glad that people are able to be hopeful, and I would like nothing better than for hope to become the default setting in my life.

And here is the poem that came to me as I read the section of Ellen Foster where her mother dies:

One more day,
Can I have one more day?
But the answer is always the same.
Her heart has stopped,
And mine goes on.

And I wish for some
Kind of reverse mothering,
Where I can keep her alive
With my body, like she
Kept me alive with hers,
But the answer is always the same.


The Civilian said...

Hope this still works??? You've inspired me to get back in my studio and address my demons head on!

Amy said...

Inspiration is what life's all about.

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