I haven't posted in quite a while now. I suppose I have been too "tied" up, tired, or just didn't care to post. Who knows? I took a break from doctoral work, returned to my writing class, and have been reading Plath. As of late, life floats around me. I feel as if I am not participating, but merely existing. Maybe it's the Plath. I'm not sure. Have you ever felt as if you are trapped in some sort of matrix, that someone else, some unknown entity is controlling your life? I see the children...yes, they are mine, I see the husband...yes, he is the one who shared his last name with me. The days race past me so quickly. Each morning I rise and my mechanical body labors throughout the house, dressing, applying makeup, preparing breakfasts, and packing lunches. Breaking away from this routine sounds nice, but change only causes complication. Christmas is fast approaching. For now I can use the excuse, "No, you can't have that today.....Christmas will be here soon.
Aftermath
ReplyDeleteCompelled by calamity's magnet
They loiter and stare as if the house
Burnt-out were theirs, or as if they thought
Some scandal might any minute ooze
From a smoke-choked closet into light;
No deaths, no prodigious injuries
Glut these hunters after an old meat,
Blood-spoor of the austere tragedies.
Mother Medea in a green smock
Moves humbly as any housewife through
Her ruined apartments, taking stock
Of charred shoes, the sodden upholstery:
Cheated of the pyre and the rack,
The crowd sucks her last tear and turns away
You have spoken to the hearts and lives of more women than you realize, Posey. A little less Plath may be in order, but speaking the truth from your soul is not. Beautiful post, dear.
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