Rebirth Redux


Morgue File
Clarita


Rebirth Redux




I have no feeling left
fingers to thumb flayed
like snakeskin left in the sun.

When the horizon took me
I sang of its dissolution
packing oranges in an old suitcase
bound in spit and steel.

When I return, I will bend my thumb
back to meet wrist,
feel its pulse
and move on
to sleep in the night air.

First published in Total Eclipse Poetry and Prose, Issue 1, June 2019

Posted for Poets United

Comments

  1. Fascinating, in that you narrate this without divulging the background situation, and yet I completely accept its truth as if there is no mystery. I think it's beautifully written, and somewhat reminiscent of Cohen in the use of imagery which should be startling yet feels absolutely right.

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    1. Thank you Rosemary--I am not sure where this one came from--but I felt it as a hopeful thing

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  2. I am not sure that I understand the context, not sure what is literal or what is figurative, but as Rosemary said it is beautifully written. Always good to see you!

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    1. I am not sure either Mary! Sometimes, I just accept it as it comes--and pray it means something

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  3. Powerfully writen, Audrey. At first, it took me to the prompt at Toads, of an apocalyptic future.

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  4. Like the others, I am puzzled about the context of this and am a bit mystified about the bending of the thumb back. But it is well written.

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    1. I suffer from insufficient context sometimes--I thing this is one of those--but I still get something from the ending one one thing and the beginning of another from this--

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    2. A powerfully rendered piece that struck me, as well, as hopeful.

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  5. When I return, I will bend my thumb
    back to meet wrist,
    feel its pulse
    and move on

    Perhaps to wait for some signals on what best to do. It helps sometimes to review the situation, Audrey!

    Hank

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  6. I remember reading a priest saying forgiveness requires a deep acknowledgement of the pain suffered -- you grieve and forgive, not forgive and forget -- so too here there is no rebirth without reliving what has died. The first image is extraordinary, puzzling, almost dada -- vicious wound as caul -- and down we go, traveling to the underworld whistling its song (that suitcase, its dread cargo!). And the return is back through the wound, shedding it like ... snakeskin ... but alive and moving on into "sleep into night air" which is (to me) the sane iteration of the old drowning. A fine 3 steps in darkness.

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  7. There is an intensity and force in this poem - very powerful

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  8. I feel a bit of an alien thing here but aren't we all? Great imagery.

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  9. This was a poem i read a few times... I think the rebirth in the last stanza... is one of painfilled heartbeats.

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  10. This is deeply touching, Audrey! ❤️ I could sense the pain mingled with hope in your words.

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