He isn’t the only one with an ear almost blasted off. Maybe you are similarly afflicted— capacity for listening gone, obliterated by a fear that rips right through you. You try to make yourself bulletproof. You crouch there, strafing blame, building walls of words designed to wound. You let fear sever you from the other half. You really believe there is some other half. Maybe fear has severed you from yourself? Maybe I am you.
This poem feels like the world’s biggest, most inclusive hug. “The you that are the chosen ones / the you that are the forgotten ones.” So beautiful, Larry! Our world needs poems like this right now.
Lisa, what a tremndous poem and incredible prompt. I am excited to dive in, but wanted to say great work to you and to say that you are truly one of my sheroes and theoroes in this world. I am so grateful.
This poem is so beautiful, Keith, and puts a thought-provoking new spin on things that have been kicking around in my brain. I heard someone say recently (and have heard others say the same thing before) that the universality of a poem is built through particularity, and I recently watched Mel’s TEDex talk (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeJ_lAlymbM) where she talks about using individual stories as a journalist to create broader empathy and understanding. And of course the state of the world has me thinking about all of this too - whom I feel connected to and whom I don’t, and what stories in my mind contribute to all of that. You’ve given me more to think about - thank you!
This is truly powerful Keith. I like the tension you create and the arc you draw from rhetoric to anger to possible action. The ending is quite moving.
Thank you, Larry. I'm so glad to know it landed for you in these ways. Once that heart connection goes "dead," all bets are off...which is scary. But your chant about seeing everyone, regardless, gave me hope.
I've had a rough week and a hard time making myself write anything, but this prompt and your poem finally pulled something out. I've been beating myself up a lot, so I think I needed this one.
I’m so sorry to hear it’s been a rough week for you, A (truthfully, this week hasn’t been on my favorites list either). I’m so grateful that your experiences inspired this poem, though, and that you’re sharing it with us. I can relate deeply to both of the yous that show up in this poem - the hurting and ready to fight you, as well as the wise and unconditionally loving you. I have both of those parts - and about a billion more! I could feel my own nervous system calm down as I read the last three stanzas - just lovely!
So relatable, A. I am so very glad you chose not to fight, but to make so much compassionate space for yourself. The collective air is swollen with angry rhetorical questions right now, so I wouldn't be surprised if many of us are feeling self-aggression (in addition, perhaps to other-aggression). I'm glad you shared this.
Hi A. I am sorry it has been a hard week. I am grateful you found this poem among the hard days. It is beauitful and lovely and full of you! I have said to myself at least three times today "what is wrong with you, Larry." A premptive strike, cultural and family condtioning, my own sense of unwrorth. Thank goodness there are other voices, including our own. As I read your splendid poem, I found myself saying quietly, "there is so much right with you, dear one." Indeed, there is.
Better late than never.... I finally wrote some "you" poems. These are dedicated to my son, who turned 21 a couple days ago. One is from his perspective (imagined by me) and the other is from mine. Based on actual events that took place at midnight. ;)
Oh my goodness, I love seeing these two perspectives and two you's side by side! So creative. And I love that his first interactive act as a newly minted 21-year-old (besides shadowboxing the invisible enemy of course) was to hug his mama!
This poem is as delicious as the coffee I’m sipping with it (first cup of the day, so very delicious indeed)! The first stanza is pure music - “hum in rumbling wavelets,” and I love the wondering you pose in the third stanza, as well as the contrast between the hummingbird and your own “slow and giant aliveness.” This is just gorgeous, Mike! If you haven’t already, I hope you’ll share it on your Substack because more people need to read it!
Thank you so much, Lisa!!! I will indeed! I had been thinking about your prompt for many days, because I LOVE playing with pronouns in poetry as it is. When I snapped a photo of a hummingbird in my yard, your prompt + the photo clicked together to be the inspiration for it. Thanks for being so kind and so keen.
Love this post and poem!!! 🫶🏼
Thank you, Maya! It wouldn’t have happened without the inspiration and brilliance that you and Padraig offered up!
This is such a powerful & beautifully crafted poem Lisa. In this fraught time poetry matters in the way that you have shown us here. Thank you!
Thank you so much, Victoria! I love how the goodness and big hearts from CWC are spilling over into Substack, too. ❤️
An offering for today.
I See You.
I see you,
Completely, totally,
wholly and holy.
Even in the limitations
Of my vision,
I see you.
The you that is my lover
The you that are my children
The you that are my friends
The you that are strangers
The you that are my community
That you that are my people
The you that are the chosen ones
The you that are the forgotten ones
The you who are cast aside
The you who are invisible
The you who are my enemies.
The you whom I’ll never see or know.
I see you.
I see you.
I see you.
This poem feels like the world’s biggest, most inclusive hug. “The you that are the chosen ones / the you that are the forgotten ones.” So beautiful, Larry! Our world needs poems like this right now.
Thank you Lisa. A large hug to you! With lots of exclamation points, too!
This is a chant that is desperately needed and deeply felt. Love the recursion and the sentiment woven throughout, Larry!
Thank you Keith! May we keep chanting!
Mom first, good call.
I love "even in the limitations of my vision, I see you" - it really envelops you, this poem.
Thank you A.
Lisa, what a tremndous poem and incredible prompt. I am excited to dive in, but wanted to say great work to you and to say that you are truly one of my sheroes and theoroes in this world. I am so grateful.
Sheroes and theoroes! 😂 I think these fabulous words may have just inspired my next poem - we’ll see. Thank you, Larry!
Oh, wow - this poem really packed a punch...and the last lines especially. Big, fat mic drop!!
*
Come to think of it,
you, in and of yourself,
are not a problem.
No. With you alone,
I can somehow locate
just enough of your heart
to relate rather than relegate.
But
when you grows into
two, then three, then seventy,
and you’ve become the imperial “we” --
your rhetoric increasingly inflammatory --
fear gets the best of me.
I shrink, contract, meticulously plan
the perfect counterattack.
there’s simply no going back
because I now lack
the ability to track
either my heart or yours.
This poem is so beautiful, Keith, and puts a thought-provoking new spin on things that have been kicking around in my brain. I heard someone say recently (and have heard others say the same thing before) that the universality of a poem is built through particularity, and I recently watched Mel’s TEDex talk (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeJ_lAlymbM) where she talks about using individual stories as a journalist to create broader empathy and understanding. And of course the state of the world has me thinking about all of this too - whom I feel connected to and whom I don’t, and what stories in my mind contribute to all of that. You’ve given me more to think about - thank you!
Thanks, friend...and thanks for the link to Mel's TEDex talk, looking forward to watching. <3
This is truly powerful Keith. I like the tension you create and the arc you draw from rhetoric to anger to possible action. The ending is quite moving.
Thank you, Larry. I'm so glad to know it landed for you in these ways. Once that heart connection goes "dead," all bets are off...which is scary. But your chant about seeing everyone, regardless, gave me hope.
These times seem to bring us through waves of emotions and “big” feelings.
Oh, yes, this. It's much harder to see humanity in a group of people than it is to find it in one. Like missing the trees for the forest.
Yes! The trees/forest sums it up well, A. (and you know how I feel about trees <3)
I've had a rough week and a hard time making myself write anything, but this prompt and your poem finally pulled something out. I've been beating myself up a lot, so I think I needed this one.
"What is wrong with you?!"
.
The words slap and sting.
I can feel my face heating to match
the burning in my chest,
that tight squeezing feeling as all my
muscles tense and my body tries
to decide whether we will fight
or run away, but I can't run away
from myself, so I am gearing up to fight.
.
The question
is rhetorical, of course,
but I will answer it, anyway.
.
Nothing, my love. There is
not a thing wrong with you.
I'm so sorry you ever thought there was.
I'm so sorry you still can't believe the truth.
.
The question
is rhetorical,
but I will answer
as many times as it takes
for you to believe it.
I’m so sorry to hear it’s been a rough week for you, A (truthfully, this week hasn’t been on my favorites list either). I’m so grateful that your experiences inspired this poem, though, and that you’re sharing it with us. I can relate deeply to both of the yous that show up in this poem - the hurting and ready to fight you, as well as the wise and unconditionally loving you. I have both of those parts - and about a billion more! I could feel my own nervous system calm down as I read the last three stanzas - just lovely!
Wishing you better days ahead!
Oh wow, that was a lot of exclamation points. So much for my allegedly calm nervous system!
As an exclamation point lover and overuser, I like the excitement and enthusiasm!
So relatable, A. I am so very glad you chose not to fight, but to make so much compassionate space for yourself. The collective air is swollen with angry rhetorical questions right now, so I wouldn't be surprised if many of us are feeling self-aggression (in addition, perhaps to other-aggression). I'm glad you shared this.
Hi A. I am sorry it has been a hard week. I am grateful you found this poem among the hard days. It is beauitful and lovely and full of you! I have said to myself at least three times today "what is wrong with you, Larry." A premptive strike, cultural and family condtioning, my own sense of unwrorth. Thank goodness there are other voices, including our own. As I read your splendid poem, I found myself saying quietly, "there is so much right with you, dear one." Indeed, there is.
Yes, yes, yes. Glad you posted this one here as well as sharing it with CWC.
Thank you so much! And it’s so nice to be crossing paths with you in more than one space!
Better late than never.... I finally wrote some "you" poems. These are dedicated to my son, who turned 21 a couple days ago. One is from his perspective (imagined by me) and the other is from mine. Based on actual events that took place at midnight. ;)
.
July 23, 2024, 12:00 am
.
Midnight and 21.
You find me outside
already observing, and are
clearly vexed,
having been roused by the stomps of
the man I was.
.
You say:
your alarm is going off really loud
in your room, and can you turn that
music down, and what are you doing
with my computer, and please close
the door so the moths don’t get in.
.
You are too sleepthick
for date and time, but as you
shuffle off I hug you anyway.
This is my first act
of the revolution.
.
.
July 22, 2024, 11:55 pm
.
I am dreaming about Kamala Harris
in a celebratory way, like she
might have a fighting chance,
when the actual combat begins.
It is you, my army of one,
shadowboxing on the deck,
grunting and puffing out your breath
as you face off with
whatever.
.
But this is normal if not nightly,
so it’s back to the town hall for me
until somebody pulls the fire alarm.
To dodge mass panic,
I sit straight up.
It is 12 on the nose
and your room is blaring,
and there is music outside,
and every light is on, because
you are you.
.
I shuffle out with my
cease and desist, and you are
mysteriously compliant
and even give me a hug,
and I am back under the covers
when I remember.
.
I shuffle back out and say it,
and you seem happy,
and tell me you’re listening to 2112,
and this is you signing another
one-year lease.
This is you
ascending.
Oh my goodness, I love seeing these two perspectives and two you's side by side! So creative. And I love that his first interactive act as a newly minted 21-year-old (besides shadowboxing the invisible enemy of course) was to hug his mama!
I love the echo of the ending from the first poem in the second! "This is my first act of the revolution" and "This is you ascending."
"You" can't stand alone
in Tony Soprano land.
"Fuck" always comes first.
.
.
.
(to combat my outrage fatigue,
I have been replacing MSNBC with a sopranos binge)
Somehow I have never ever watched a Sopranos episode!
Smallest Singer
-
I hear you thrumming toward the source
of sweetness, wings beating so fast
they hum in rumbling wavelets, strumming
warm notes on eardrums perceiving.
-
With each deep ingestion, you venture
closer to accepting me as your primate feeder,
not a leader but a farmer in a long chain
of exchanges ending in heightened syrup.
-
I wonder how your tiny heart experiences
its own rapid beating, if it feels average to you
compared to my slow and giant aliveness,
if your flight feels like respiration, the gentle
-
sensation of a slower oscillation. I am
grateful for your visitation and eager
rehydration, my shimmering friend. Alight
and rest your might a leisurely second.
This poem is as delicious as the coffee I’m sipping with it (first cup of the day, so very delicious indeed)! The first stanza is pure music - “hum in rumbling wavelets,” and I love the wondering you pose in the third stanza, as well as the contrast between the hummingbird and your own “slow and giant aliveness.” This is just gorgeous, Mike! If you haven’t already, I hope you’ll share it on your Substack because more people need to read it!
Thank you so much, Lisa!!! I will indeed! I had been thinking about your prompt for many days, because I LOVE playing with pronouns in poetry as it is. When I snapped a photo of a hummingbird in my yard, your prompt + the photo clicked together to be the inspiration for it. Thanks for being so kind and so keen.
Good poem that has allusion written all over it, all we have to do is to read the poem and find it Good read!
Thank you, Luis!