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One time, I thought near
Every window in space:
So close I could jump, could feel the
breeze
In my throat.
Needed to be clear –
To know that I could be off
Of the designed path head-first, then be
blank
And nothing –
All aired, the sense climbs
Back in, fresh and tender, still
And just, thoughtless as a head can be:
brain-gone,
spilled loving.
Sometimes – just sometimes
My heart gets big and slow and
Every part of me feels blended
together:
That's called hope.
:)
Really, what is hope?
ReplyDeleteThough it reaches forward, heady calculations of probable futures do not inspire the feeling of hope: hope is an aftertaste left by other emotions. In fear, in sadness, in loneliness, in disappointment we feel anxious – the body splits into parts (tense shoulders; chalky, uncomfortable skin; dense, narrow lungs; tumultuous, unsettlable eyes). And then in love, in preparation, in communion, in dreaming we feel hope – our body begins to convene, to make a warm landing place for a good future.
And that is a feeling; it directs and grounds us in a momentous and fulfilling way. Love kindly, labor gracefully, listen thankfully, rest animally: seek it out. Go chasing, sweating, smiling, releasing: hope is the aftertaste. Use yourself brightly & be precious.
* where am I going to find the image for this (a falling body, a cracked-open head, a spread of blood that hugs the earth all open and accepting, and a smile having dreamed it all – just to learn from a little philosophical stretch of perspective) without being really macabre? This'll be a delicate one.
This poem reminds me a lot of Dickinson’s “Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul / And sings the tune without the words / And never stops at all.” The poems are similar in that both address the inevitability of hope--it’s inculcated deep within us, and may not “rear its head” until we’re faced with tragic or desperate events. I think all of us have experienced moments (perhaps standing at a window and noting that you could jump--not that you want to, necessarily, but that you have it in your power to do so) in which we have surprisingly morbid thoughts. Another, less drastic example could be wrapping a rubber band around your finger and watching it turn purple--moments in which you’re “brain-gone” but snap out of it and let your “sense climb back in,” realizing the gruesomeness of your thoughts and perhaps noting the hopelessness that caused you to do those morbid actions in the first place. As Dickinson acknowledges in her poem, hope can be found “in the chillest land” and “on the strangest sea” and “Trickle Down” reinforces this, too--that hope is not really difficult to find but can be found when one is fulfilled and their heart is “big,” perhaps due to friendships, kindness, or gratitude.
ReplyDeleteWell-read -- I don't necessarily think that hopelessness causes gruesome thoughts and morbid actions (sometimes it's just a reaction to stress, or even curiosity ... what would happen if___?). But whatever the cause, I feel, at least for myself, that it's important to go there -- if only to spur myself back into life.
DeleteLouie C.K. describes this as the bodies positive "antibodies" that it sends in to bring us back to balance when we're low: a laugh in the midst of crying, a tingle at the end of a rubber-banded finger, some guiding hope in the middle of feeling directionless or out of place.
Thank you for your thoughtful response.
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ReplyDeleteI like this poem a lot because it actually reminds me of that feeling I get when I've lost hope. The structure of the poem itself is a really evocative visual in the sense that it represents the instability one may feel when they've experienced this loss. The first stanza being off to the side displays this instability, however as the poem progresses, the stanzas slowly start to gain stability and end up being centered on the page as the poem slowly talks about regaining hope. I also see that there are dashes scattered throughout the poem's sentences; I may be over-interpreting, but I see the dashes as a representation of the uncertainty that comes with the loss of hope. I know that when I felt this way in the past, I lose the sense that I have control over myself and I feel as if I am lost. It is difficult to be certain about the future when in this state of despair, paralleling the dashes in the poem. Lastly, the poem seems to omit certain words, like in the lines "So close I could jump, could feel the breeze" and "And just, thoughtless as a head can be" (the first omits "I" and the second omits "as"). I think this omission may also be representative of the loss that one may feel; for me, losing hope makes me feel like I have no direction or purpose and that finding direction is almost impossible. I feel as though the omission of words makes the poem less direct and more open to interpretation, similar to my personal feelings of hopelessness. Overall, I think this poem is a really amazing structural and emotional representation of the subject at hand.
ReplyDeleteI dunno - can you dream about dying, as a way to feeling happy about living? And have hope as an incidental by-product? (I never saw this poem about losing hope, so much as regaining perspective about life--Creating hope--by indulging in fantasies of death). But either way, I'm glad you liked it.
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