Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Janette Schafer writes


                After “Snowdrops” by Louise Gluck

Do you know how it was, how I awoke?
You know what it is to forget to breathe.
Drowning does not require water, I know
this now. The doctor said I might not live,
so it was a surprise, awake again,
flesh raw and opened from the surgeon’s knife.
My nerves, electric, responding to pain,
terrified, but next to your hands and eyes.
My chest is a butterfly, wings unfurled,
plastic tubes dangle like jewels from my chest.

There is something I feel on my temple,
an unknown wound that lies beyond my reach.
My arms have been made useless, tied and bound.
These are new waters; I will learn to swim.
Torso with Lights (Alexiares) Tags: art butterflies surreal wires torso circuitry
Torso with Lights -- Alexiares

1 comment:

  1. Snowdrops

    Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
    what despair is; then
    winter should have meaning for you.

    I did not expect to survive,
    earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect
    to waken again, to feel
    in damp earth my body
    able to respond again, remembering
    after so long how to open again
    in the cold light
    of earliest spring—

    afraid, yes, but among you again
    crying yes risk joy

    in the raw wind of the new world.

    --Louise Glück


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