Braving the Wilds

Field Notes from the Suburban Jungle

Tag: grieving

Please Pardon Our Appearance

Come along, Dear,

She didn’t heed,

The little girl with dirty knees

And simple needs:

Popcorn, with extra butter.

The theatre was closed,

Temporarily,

It’s windows papered

While others labored

For something altogether new.

Peeled back, like

The rough hem of a curtain,

A fitting room

Where women groomed:

Work boots, revealed.

She doesn’t know,

Quite yet, the social mores,

Of personal space,

The essential grace

Of privacy, of convention.

Curious of what happens

Behind the drapes

We draw for ourselves

Where tortuous elves

Tear everything down.

Hard work, a boulot,

More mundane in French:

The rituals of preservation,

Of salvation,

Of rising out of the ashes.

Leave them be, Dear,

An outstretched hand, to

Teach the child,

Ignore the junk, piled

And patiently await the Phoenix.

Third Culture

“Traveling, she realized, was like a slow dismemberment of the body. It plucked the heart out of her and split it into pieces, leaving a bit behind wherever she went, never to be whole again.” -Rhian J. Martin

 

An island, in the middle of the Atlantic:
Where one could straddle two worlds,
Two homes, unify torn hearts into
One numbed organ that beats dry,
Where unlabeled keys fit into locks,
Unnamed dogs fling
Themselves at just-opened doors
Without the accompanying emotion.
The coffee is served: just so.

No longing, no pain,
An antiseptic wholeness
Without the idealized notion
Of what was lost. An emotionless
Purgatory, where the bittersweet
Morsel is tasteless, no
Canonization of those gone.
Here, we are all unacquainted human beings,
In a place with no appeal,
At present with no past.

Leave the island, lose the half
To feel the tear, taste the metallic blood;
Jump in, head first, wet the feet, swim,
And recognize tenderness again.