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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
by others,
she sought for a corner of her life
that belonged solely to her.
Eventually,
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.
Oh I do love this, Sherry. I'm thrilled you have allowed the dead woman to wake up. Your images are very tightly woven and deliver a powerhouse message.
ReplyDeleteSherry, although I am unfamiliar with the Dead Woman strain of poetry or life style [?}, I am totally at home with the technique of hanging in there that you describe so sympathetically.
ReplyDeleteLuckily I did not have to buy an island [not many for sale around here ;-)]
Can't help wondering why the lady's main characteristic is the fact that she is dead.
Loved every bit of this Sherry! Just perfection
ReplyDeleteI bet it was a huge Island, too. Great metaphor. Bless you. I've got to get myself back to the Garden.
ReplyDeletebeautifully intriguing Sherry... I can imagine her spacious island... freed from the identity of someone else's clothes defining me... or me defining myself.
ReplyDeleteAh, you took the "dead woman" theme too -- what fun!
ReplyDeleteBuying an island to live free -- now there is an idea.
Ideally, you come back to the mainland,
full of your newly won freedom
Trees know what they're talking about. Sometimes if you listen hard enough, they will say your name, too. Lovely sense of serenity in this, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteI really like this!
ReplyDeleteI am glad she found her place of freedom where she answered only to the trees!
ReplyDeleteTrees are so eloquent!
ReplyDeleteTrees may have more wisdom than many people.
ReplyDeleteNot a word wasted, Sherry. The first three lines are just brilliant.
ReplyDeleteI love your dead woman
ReplyDeleteWho doesn t love a talking tree
I too love your dead woman...what a life she now leads. :)
ReplyDeleteSherry, I'm glad you stopped wracking and started tapping. The result was so efficient it sang.
ReplyDeleteYes...everything she needed to know. Very nice!
ReplyDeleteI hope it makes her happy. I can't think of suchsolitude without fear and sadness
ReplyDeleteI am blessed to live in 'a land of trees' ... yes, they do talk. Uplifting, transforming ...
ReplyDeleteLove this one, Sherry. Nothing more soothing than to be surrounded by trees.
ReplyDeleteThree stanzas of decreasing length:
ReplyDeletethe problem
the resolution
and the justification.
Impressive!
She peopled it with
ReplyDeletespaciousness and sky,
and communed only with
the speaking trees.
Sherry, when are you going to publish your poems into one book? A legacy for the world? Remember 200 years from now, the beach, the trees and rainbows might not be around.
But then again, you and I would surely hope we got our act right - and the world would still be as beautiful...
she sought for a corner of her life
ReplyDeletethat belonged solely to her
I think I've been there, done that...
To be a "dead woman" half one's life... oh, I hope she is enjoying her solitary life. Some people are made for that....
ReplyDelete