by Axilea MU
Friday, January 13, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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If we were swimming in the dark water
tonight, aware of the cold, knowing
that we couldn’t resist it much longer,
I could consider that as sharing,
sharing what else but our own private
There was this insistence that life used to have,
but now it doesn’t seem so eager to dance
with me any more: you closed one door
and I shut all the others; your black eyes
out of sight, I only speak to stones now,
speak to my sorrow -
It used to be about escaping the wound,
the core, now it’s about being trapped in it;
swimming in the slowly freezing water,
under a wet, starless sky.
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|Reviewed by Odin Roark
|A profound rendering of the maxim: that which we resist always persists. I wonder, however, if the "trap" you posit here is not another word for "being taught" the lesson the narrative must learn before he or she can move on?|
|Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
|I like the line: "There was this insistence that life used to have," and the sharing of "...our own private/solitude - " along with doors - "and I shut all the others;..." so many of your visions given dimension, movement and moment. ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by Thomas Mutchler
|Very nice. Excellent wording and imagery. :-)
|Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen
|Wow, how amazing. I was thinking just yesterday about a scar that was once a wound of unfathomable emotion, only now there is no emotion,
nothing at all. I can relate to the "speaking to stones."
A very strange place for sure Alixea. Like a still fog, cold, motionless.
Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece.
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|Hypothermia is so subtle - especially so of the emotions.
"I only speak to stones, now,
speak to my sorrow -"
the weight in these words is so immense and the visual so compelling. Fabulous sustained metaphor that speaks of a universal and personal tragedy that we surely can all relate to. Always excellent and meticulously crafted, Axilea. xx
|Reviewed by Chip Bergeron
|Maybe the only way to escape the wound would be to embrace it???
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|Makes me think of Bob Dylan "You better start swimming or you will sink like a stone" did you sink? your poem is deep indeed~ always a pleasure to read you!|
|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|Axilea, I sense the emotional pain of a relationship held together by tenacity, formality -- love long ago ebbed without being noticed until it had completely disappeared -- now there is no anguish, no desire to attempt a resurrection -- only resignation and acceptance still ply the icy waters of love overturned in a sea of compromises -- "it used to be about escaping the wound, the core, now it's about being trapped in it" -- so richly descriptive of the pain of it all -- this is a work I will keep in my library to enjoy at will -- I bid you joy love and peace my dear friend -- Jon Michael|
|Reviewed by Charlie
|I had to wait to comment on this one--it's such a heavy poem--so vivid--so real. In the first strophe, it speaks something about hypothermia, and the ability to resist it--a bleakly metaphorical topic that is similar in nature to your last poem (on AD) "Brinicle". And recently, I've been seeing these commercials about a jacket that warms up at the touch of a button, wherein this Icelandic guy jumps in water holes carved out of the ice, and stays in there, "pressing the mind button" to keep warm. Well, it may be just as simple as mind over matter, but it would take one strong, trained mind to not succumb to that kind of enemy--that kind of ice-dagger--that kind of doubt, darkness and inevitable hypothermia.
The second strophe we arrive at via that mushy-ice-filled sea, still cold, still swimming tredding water in desperation, and we get filled with a loneliness so real, we feel our our limbs begin to shiver. (Mind over matter--mind over matter--mind over matter--get control again--okay, swim. Swim) Our sodden, metaphorical legs are dancing behind closed doors, black eyes, stones and sorrow. The colors (as mentioned before) are gray and black and shadowed. And that first line makes us ache for "insistence" again. And for me, I recall up all the times I felt like this, and they are bleak--the realization that you are carrying a dead child in your womb--that your first-born child may not live to see her fifth birthday--that your children will never know their grandmother, or your homeland, or... the list for me goes on and on. We feel it deeply.
The last strophe, though still dark, opens up a bit, so it's not so claustrophobic. It shouldn't, perhaps, but is does. "escaping the wound" is a powerful phrase--so powerful, that the next set is diminished somehow: "now it's about being trapped in it". So we're still swimming in the freezing sea, but at least now we know there's a sky, albeit starless and wet, though the mere mention of stars conjurs up an image of them in our minds.
Like some of your other readers, I would warm you! In my mind, I threw in I don't know how many quilts and blankets, but realized quickly that wrapped around your legs, they would drag you down to the depths. So, we throw out life-lines, floating devices, and freakishly strange jackets that warm up at the touch of a button, and we hope one of them--something falls within your reach, and you never succumb to the death-shivers.
Until then, please keep pushing your mind button. Keep saying, "I believe. I believe. I believe!" --Charlie
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|'I only speak to stones now, speak to my sorrow'--------EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|our level of tolerance to the extremes of emotion depend on the conditions we allow ourselves to survive in ...
"swimming in the slowly freezing water,
under a wet, starless sky."
luv that image ...
|Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather
|you can swim and be pulled away from shore or walk in the dark forrest in circles and never get where you need to be. What will save you? excellent poem. ~ Morgan|
|Reviewed by Patrick Granfors
|Wow wow wow. It takes two to tango on the same dance floor. Doors were meant to be opened. Perhaps something surprisingly beautiful lies on the other side. Patrick|
|Reviewed by Douglas Bentley
|One day the stones will cry out
Feeling nothing but their hardness
And seeing through that wet dress
I feel all the tenderness. . . . .missing.
|Reviewed by JMS Bell
|THE DARKEST HOUR IS ALWAYS JUST BEFORE DAWN. IT IS MY HOPE AND PRAYER THAT YOU WILL REGAIN YOUR GOD GIVEN 'WILL' TO SEE THE SUN...AGAIN. WEEPING ENDURES BUT FOR A NIGHT...JOY COMES WITH THE MORNING LIGHT...SO, EMERGE! AND PRESS ON! LIFE 'IS' WORTH LIVING. PLEASE READ; 'I TRUST YOU, LORD' & 'TODAY'. THANKS FOR SHARING, LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS|
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|Axilea, a bleakness in your poem...disillusion...a terrible hurt
that all of us have felt at one time.
|Reviewed by Donna Chandler
|These words paint a sad, haunting picture of tragedy and lonleness.
|Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE
|there is a solemn splendor, a kind of sombre spectral elasticity about this, in that it keeps coming back to haunt you ... I've re-read it three times now at this second coming and though it speaks of darkness, I can't help but feel some ethereal light at its core...
There is an old REM song that forms the backdrop in my mind as I read this wonderful poem of yours... you may have heard it... if not, check it out on itunes... it is called simply, "Nightswimming"...
It's snowed here last night... and I thought of my brother for some reason... this poem evokes those personal kinds of memories... "swimming in the slowly freezing water." I wish you warmth, Axilea.
|Reviewed by Terry Rizzuti
|More imamgery that makes me think, Axilea, and I thank you for that.|
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|You've got a stunning poem here!
It's so real, and in shades of blue and gray, living color ~
Awesome imagery that brings me to tears, painful memories.
|Reviewed by Alan Abrams
|but Axilea, despair not: we are not stones|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Darkly sad and so compelling and soul-reaching... ...thank you for sharing, Axilea. Love and best wishes to you,
|Reviewed by stan nassano
we keep swimming,one word at a time
|Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
|This is so sadly beautiful! You need a trip to the beach (ocean), it will do wonders to blow the cobwebs and doldrums out of your mind and heart.
Lovely work as always,
Peace, love and light,