I can’t deny it. The day I got this particular acceptance, I cried. I had submitted to Rust + Moth so many times and when the email came in that they had accepted my poem, I was in disbelief. I still am. Rust + Moth, in my opinion, is publishing some of the best contemporary poetry online and in print, and to have my work sit alongside that of so many writers I admire, is an absolute honor. The Autumn issue is incredible, full of poems that have left me breathless and in tears. If you would like to, you can read my poem, here.
Everyone falls. Everyone daydreams and falls into states of preoccupation, falls into the arms of another person, falls to the ground. Can you remember the last time you fell to the ground? I know it happens, but how often? Is it a story you tell about that one time you fell and were so fucking embarrassed? Or maybe you cried? Did you hurt yourself? Were you drunk? There is no judgement here. I have fallen and been embarrassed and cried and hurt myself, and yes, I have been falling down drunk. But, the falls that shake me the most, are the falls that can only be blamed on RP. Continue reading “Everyone Falls”
I linger on the outside of everywhere. I am a skulker, a bone shucker, a fraud. I slip behind curtains, under floorboards, into panes of glass that mute my words. I am awkward and stumble more than I stand tall. I am late to the gathering, last to get the joke, the one in the corner feeling confused. I am hollow, looking for substance, failing. I am fleeting, a pale representation, a liar. I am a nail biter torn to the quick. I am clamor and catastrophe in the flick of a switch. You are my captor, my captivator, my annihilator. You are the steely grip of an unblinking gaze. You are my habit, my protector, you pull the strings. I will always surrender. You will always win.
I never wrote love poems, not about the good parts of love anyway, until I met my husband, Joe. Perhaps I had never really been in love before him, or perhaps I didn’t know what real love was supposed to feel like and look like. What I do know, is that my life and my heart have not been the same since I first met him, almost 10 years ago.
This month is his birthday month, my personal favorite month of the year because it is about celebrating him, so it is perfect that today my poem, “Unwavering” came out in Foxglove Journal.
I approach the idea of suffering from 2 angles. One is from the knowledge that there is always someone who is suffering more than me, suffering atrocities that I cannot even begin to imagine. The other, is that as individuals, our own suffering is indeed the worst in the world. We walk in our own skins, live in our own minds. Ever since my RP diagnosis, 16 years ago, I have had people comment that they shouldn’t complain to me about their own suffering, given that mine must be so much worse. I have also had people tell me that RP isn’t so bad, that it isn’t going to kill me and there are people who have it much worse than I do. I believe we are all human, we all have value in our pain and in our joy and in our expression. Our plights are our own, but hopefully by sharing our experiences with each other, we learn and find spaces of healing and understanding. Or is this all bullshit?
Continue reading “Perspective on Suffering”
I fell a few weeks ago, on the sidewalk, while gawking at another new group of hideous town houses that are being built in our neighborhood. When I fell, I cried, not because it hurt, but because I felt humiliated, broken, slapped in the face yet again by RP. My depression and self loathing voices took center stage and told me I was useless and really shouldn’t even be outside if I can’t manage to walk a block without falling down and scraping my knees. I wanted to hide, from the RP and the day and the world. I wanted to hide from myself, pretend I was graceful, dream I could float. My sadness turned to anger and I stumbled home, terrified that every step may be the one to send me back into the unwelcome embrace of the pavement. Until very recently, this had been my usual response to falling.
Continue reading “Eating Barbequed Iguana”
A friend recently asked me how I manage hiking with limited vision. I have actually been thinking about writing a post about this since I started hiking again. I thought it might be something other people wondered about as well. How the hell can a blind woman go hiking? You have to remember, I am blind but I can see. It is probably less confusing if I refer to myself as VI (visually impaired), but I am legally blind.
Continue reading “Hiking Blind”