Losing Control
I see
how rain gets out of control
how driving hard
it spark-mists hot black pavement
how pouring down
it pulls a vertical sheath
madly against the thing you need seen
how it pounds incensed
on a roof of tessellating tin
until it runs off
to bubble up at leaf-tips
clear-vision globes perfectly balanced
edge on ends
their future dried up in an instant's glare.
*
I understand
tears can be mistaken
for the sound of rain
how trying to control the self undone
unmakes the quilt of calm in a room
crazy with grief
how the surfeit of that first drop
becomes the next to follow
the heart pinging and pining.
© 2010 Maureen E. Doallas. All Rights Reserved.
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I wrote this poem for the April 20 Blog Carnival, sponsored by Bridget Chumbley of One Word at a Time and Peter Pollock of Rediscovering the Church.
The Blog Carnival is a biweekly online event open to anyone. Participants write on a one-word prompt or topic. This week's is "self-control".
Go here for a list of links to all of the contributions, which are posted throughout Tuesday and often through to the end of the week.
The Blog Carnival's FaceBook page is here.
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13 comments:
how trying to control the self undone
unmakes the quilt of calm in a room
But of course the quilt is unmade so that one might wrap it about oneself ...
There are so many good things about this poem -- I don't know where to start. The progression of rain to tears? That it's about grief, among other things? The "roof of tessallating tin" and "the heart pinging and pining" and "the quilt of calm?" The movement from rain to tears, or how grief is a kind of wildness? And then to read it aloud!
I love this, Maureen.
Maureen - I've said before I don't really "get" poetry too often, but your words seems to speak to me in a way I understand. Thanks for this. Beautiful.
" ... tears can be mistaken
for the sound of rain."
That is wonderful.
What they said.... this is brilliant and beautiful and sad and lovely and just so... everything.
Thank you
You know how some grief can be too ugly and raw to bear watching? This kind of grief could be observed without embarrassment to anyone. And should be witnessed. Refining words. Straw into gold.
I read this when it was new ... now again, the "crazy with grief" stirs hard ...
You've written the unbecoming of grief... in rain and tears.
You have such a beautiful way with words. I love your poetry.
Wow, Maureen. I appreciate this- beautiful.
"Spark-mists" grabbed me. "Pounding incensed." Word pictures. Thank you.
oh. my.
The tears/rain spoke to me as well.
Another beautiful poem by Maureen. Thank you.
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