The shared experience of RP is what initially drew me to read Carrie Ann’s blog, ” A Writer and Her Sentimental Muse”, but it was something much deeper than blindness that connected us. Poetry! Although we both have vision loss, our passion for poetry and writing is something that drives us both and connects us as artists. Carrie Ann is a wonderful writer and a beautiful soul, and I am thrilled that she agreed to be the very first guest writer for my blog. I know you will love her as much as I do.
I’m so honored to be asked to write a guest post for Susan’s blog. She’s such a special lady with an extraordinary writing talent! I just love her poems as they are so insightful, honest and beautiful.
Poetry can evoke strong emotions in its reader. It can express one’s pain in a way that no other form of writing can. At least, this is true for me. I was first introduced to poets such as Whitman, Frost and Dickinson when I was in middle school, but I never understood the true language or purpose of poetry.
Life went on to deal me with some crappy things through losses.
Darren, my cousin and best friend. He died when we were both fourteen years old. He had Muscular Dystrophy.
My grandmother who was also my surrogate mother throughout my childhood years. She passed away when I was seventeen.
Aaron, my first husband. He was killed in a car accident shortly before our second anniversary.
Loss of hearing at an early age, and then discovering I was also losing my vision in my early 20s (just before I met Aaron).
For years, writing was the outlet I used to deal with the losses, but I was still in emotional turmoil. Short stories, essays, or even novels weren’t helping. When I experienced a miscarriage in 2008, my heart couldn’t bear the pain any longer. Instead of falling to pieces, I instinctively picked up a pen and wrote a poem. It was something I hadn’t tried since the early 1980s. Something I had no real comprehension of, yet it was something I felt I had to do.
And as I wrote, the words came easily. It felt natural.
On that particular day, I finally understood.
Poetry was the only language that spoke to my broken heart. It was the only form of writing that brought true healing to the pain I held within.
So, yes, I consider myself a writer of many things; but the essence of me will always be a poet.
This was the poem I wrote:
Oh, how precious you are.
Here one moment.
Gone in the next.
You are my greatest teacher.
You are my darkest fear.
I have learned to embrace your every blessing
And respect your every lesson and challenge.
You bring encouragement when I am troubled.
You bring wisdom as I grow in experience and maturity.
But, as with all life, death eventually comes.
This is the natural process
We should not fear
For each of us must pass this way eventually.
So, come, let us embrace
Life for all its worth
For it can be gone in an instant.