Watching
me. Did I see those eyes,
holding deep in bitter iris, the word
' yes,' as if they promised something
I did not deserve, forming only to
mock, as if betrayal were a badge
I wore, unseen only by me, marker
made invisible by denial; disguised
tattoo, carved, curled, stabbed ink
into flesh, waiting, desperate, for
a sign, a symbol that I existed,
even if only in the arms of pain,
even if only in shallow hurting;
slicing flesh as I had done myself,
so many times, nicking and then
cutting deep through bursting blood
and patient flesh, searching down,
down, down, hoping to find in
the roil of bleeding, a surge of
life which would tell me I was
real - made manifest in and of
material being, formed solid so
a hand could touch, hold and
know truth of Self, surely enough
for heart to whisper: 'This is me.'
And yet, in those times of sullen
sleep, those dark days and bright
nights, where all blurs in deadly
weeping, the voice calls ever
louder, that the heart too can lie,
that nothing can be believed in
any certain way; that I am only
real when I am watching me.
In that certain gaze I can no
holding deep in bitter iris, the word
' yes,' as if they promised something
I did not deserve, forming only to
mock, as if betrayal were a badge
I wore, unseen only by me, marker
made invisible by denial; disguised
tattoo, carved, curled, stabbed ink
into flesh, waiting, desperate, for
a sign, a symbol that I existed,
even if only in the arms of pain,
even if only in shallow hurting;
slicing flesh as I had done myself,
so many times, nicking and then
cutting deep through bursting blood
and patient flesh, searching down,
down, down, hoping to find in
the roil of bleeding, a surge of
life which would tell me I was
real - made manifest in and of
material being, formed solid so
a hand could touch, hold and
know truth of Self, surely enough
for heart to whisper: 'This is me.'
And yet, in those times of sullen
sleep, those dark days and bright
nights, where all blurs in deadly
weeping, the voice calls ever
louder, that the heart too can lie,
that nothing can be believed in
any certain way; that I am only
real when I am watching me.
In that certain gaze I can no
longer be, invisible, and so I
dare not blink, for in that act
I would no longer exist.....
https://dversepoets.com/2019/02/05/poetics-invisible/
https://dversepoets.com/2019/02/05/poetics-invisible/
quite a journey of personal exploration
ReplyDeleteI like ‘eyes, holding deep in bitter iris’ and the images of self harm are vivid and powerful, especially:
ReplyDelete‘…disguised
tattoo, carved, curled, stabbed ink
into flesh, waiting, desperate, for
a sign, a symbol that I existed’
and
‘…hoping to find in
the roil of bleeding, a surge of
life which would tell me I was
real’.
This cuts deep,underneath the skin, into the heart of one's self. Is it truth that one is seeking for? Are we prepared to accept it?
ReplyDeleteWow, Roslyn! This self-revelation is a bit frightening. Different than your usual style but very powerful.
ReplyDeleteIt is not self-revelation, and not my experience. Just my sense of it from people I have known.
DeleteMy goodness this is incredibly raw and evocative!
ReplyDeleteI feel the sense of making yourself visible by hurting yourself... I imagine more a teen cutting herself (and I see it in your comment too)
ReplyDeleteYes, pain makes us real because we are forced to focus. Not necessarily a teenager. Interestingly there is evidence showing that masochists were often children who were subjected to invasive and painful medical treatments - torture in essence - and as adults feel a need to experience pain which they were told as children, 'was good for them.' While one can admire the skills of modern medicine, it is a pity that so many treatments, particularly chemotherapy, are in essence torture - worse, torture which fails to cure.
DeleteSo powerful. I read it up to "This is me" almost in one breath, and then paused before reading the next three stanzas. Poignant the idea that this person is only real when watching. It makes me think of teens especially who live by their likes on social media.
ReplyDelete