The dead woman lived
half her lifetime,
before she woke up.
Trying to fit into too-small boxes,
she longed only for freedom.
Fulfilling roles expected of her
she sought for a corner of her life
that belonged solely to her.
she had to buy herself an island.
She peopled it with
spaciousness and sky,
and communed only with
the speaking trees.
They told her everything
she needed to know.
Kerry, at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, set us a wonderful challenge today: to write an existential poem that asks the question: why are we here? Or at least that makes us think. I was wracking my brain, hoping to come up with something deep, but this tapped itself out and announced it was finished.
I have always been intrigued by the dead woman poems some of my friends have written. Kerry said she wrote her wonderful example, Notes About the Dead Woman (Self-Help), in the tone of Marvin Bell.
Other Toads have come up with incredible offerings to this theme. Do check their links out, over at Toads.