If you see a whole thing - it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives... But up close a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. - Ursula K. LeGuin

Saturday, August 9, 2008


I have always loved myths and myth-making. I love stories of gods and saints (pagan or otherwise) and constellations that explain phenomenon that would otherwise puzzle us. I love learning myths from different cultures. I also love fairy tales, which have many of the qualities of myths but focus on entertainment and (sometimes) teaching morality rather than explaining phenomenon. (Probably an oversimplification of the distinction and my scholar friends in lit, please do chime in here). I love to anthropomorphize, especially in poems. Here's one I've been working on:

Recovery Myth

Hurt follows me;
a hungry child whining
'round my waist.

Cupid’s baby sister;
Lust’s progeny;
born to soon and then forgotten.

Lank hair falls on gaunt eyes,
her long limbs reaching up,
until I bend and cup

her strained face in my hands.
I brush a dry kiss across
her cracked lips and bring fire

to her cheeks. Her eyes change from want
to greed and she grows; mighty and strong.
Her arms circle me as we stand

foreheads touching. Flinging
my head back and opening my throat
I shout: long, strong, and full.

She whithers from my anger; slowly
receding but not yet gone, she clings
with the frailest of fingertips.

Unprying them from my flesh
I feel her slip and fade
from my side.


Deb said...

Oh my gosh Brig. That's really good. Mine would say something like, Roses are Red...oh, you've heard that one before have you?

Julie said...

This is beautiful. I love the foreheads touching...that entire stanza. And the ending is so powerful! I love the subject, too. Exquisite.