Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Category: Haiku/Poetry

I like a look of Agony

It’s been a while since I’ve commented on one of Emily Dickinson’s poems. Here’s one that seems right for this season of national and international rhetoric. My comments follow, in free-verse form.

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it’s true –
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe –

The Eyes glaze once – and that is Death –
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.

c. 1861

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

Emily doesn’t like false feelings or pretense. In this poem she looks to Death for an example of true feelings. Not expressed in words, but literally, on the forehead of a dying person. No one can possibly play make-believe when it comes time to die. Convulsions and the intense agonies of death, whether physical, spiritual or emotional, can’t be faked.

Nor can those telltale ‘Beads upon the Forehead’ of the dying person. Even silent Anguish cries out with tears that leak through the skin. Beads of Anguish strung upon the Brow. Thus Death gives strange birth to Truth. The truth of Agony and Anguish.

Below is my free-verse response to Emily’s poem. I’m struck by how many ‘fake’ emotions parade before our eyes and ears each day. We live in an age that celebrates Faux or at least Exaggerated Feelings. Perhaps to such an extent that we no longer discern what is Manufactured from what is Real.

With apologies to Emily:

We live in an age of Faux Feelings
Or at least an age that rewards them
Not with congratulations but with Attention
and Faux Gasps of Horror or Delight

Perhaps we forgot or never knew
How to have, much less allow air time
For True Feelings not ratcheted up
To the nth degree — especially True Agony

The kind not found by looking in a mirror
Trying to get just the right look that will
land just the right response be it Attention,
Applause, Laughter or the Disgust of the Moment

Unsocial Commandments hamstring us
Pulling chains that avert our eyes instead of
Encouraging us toward each other in life and
In death as family and next of kin, not strangers

Life and Death itself seem to propel us toward
Ever-greater depths of make-believe and denial –
Hiding behind masks that mimic or minimize feelings
We most fear to acknowledge, sit with or name

Perhaps our Deaths are the only unscripted
Roles we play with unfiltered, uncosmeticized
Feelings of True Agony, Grief, Pain and Love,
Finally crossing all sides of divides that bind us

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 May 2018
Photo found at blog.xuite.net

bright ruffled poppies

bright ruffled poppies
dance along the garden wall
bowing and nodding

Here’s to the women in my life who mothered me along the way! You didn’t even know you were doing it. Sometimes I didn’t know, either. I’ll never forget the friend who invited me to a makeup demo. I’ve never been a big makeup fan. It was the devil’s paint when I was growing up–also a sad and sorry sign of being a ‘loose’ woman.

Nonetheless, by the time I got to the seminary as a professor in the early 1980s, I was in dire need of mothering. This little makeup demo was a tiny step that helped give me more confidence than I ever had as a child, teenager, or young adult.

Along with the makeup demo came a little tutorial on colors that would complement my summer beauty! Imagine that…thinking of myself as a ‘summer.’ Even more spectacular, these two little tips became the foundation of everything I wore or gently applied to my face. Colors that actually made me happy to look in the mirror.

Then there was my emotional/physical/spiritual storm during the late 1980s and 1990s. This time it wasn’t about what was on the outside. It was about what was eating me away on the inside. It took a while to get there, but in the early 1990s I met a gifted psychotherapist who actually listened to me and wanted to hear about my life. Without meaning to, she mothered me for decades, and still plays a role in my life. Encouraging me through this last chapter.

I wouldn’t be here at all without my birth mother. She was beautiful on the outside and inside, and her life was fraught from the beginning. Sadly, she never talked much about herself. I think she carried a lot of shame, along with physical pain and the challenge of living with my father for over 60 years. Some of what she wasn’t able to give me, a great host of women have given me in small and large ways. Often when least expected.

For these women, past and present, I’m sending these poppies. Small signs of the beauty to which you introduced me. I see bits and pieces of beauty in life, in nature, in friendships, in myself, and in hard places I thought I would never experience. All because you showed me your beauty from the inside out.

Yesterday afternoon I visited my neighbor’s backyard garden. He had planted a row of oriental poppies against his garden wall. They were magnificent. Hence the haiku and the photos above of gorgeous, crepe-paper-like oriental orange poppies.

Here’s to a Happy Mother’s Day and Year to all Mothers–including those we never expected to cross our paths along the way.

Elouise

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 May 2018
Photos found at cbsally.com

spring beauty

morning sun
bathes fir trees
heavy with new cones

bird pairs sing —
their broken records
stuck in a groove

I wrote these two weeks ago early in the morning, then prevailed upon D to take the photo at the top. It’s from our bathroom window, looking at what was once a baby Christmas tree planted along our property boundary. The unusually high number of new cones is visible in every variety of fir tree in and around our yard. Good news for the squirrels! They go crazy when it’s a bumper crop year.

Then there were and still are mating birds all over the place singing their loud songs–sometimes female and male birds call back and forth to each other, other times male birds belligerently announce and defend their territory. No need for an alarm clock these days.

I love this time of year! Hoping you’re enjoying whatever season is happening in your part of the globe.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 May 2018
Photo taken by DAFraser, 27 April 2018

Feeling pretty

What a strange sensation this
rush of feeling pretty
The surprise visit of someone
I used to want to know

Opening my attic closet I see
lovely lively colors I used to wear
Nothing to turn a head or
get a wolf whistle
Yet enough to feel good
when passing by a mirror

Then again maybe pretty happens
when I’m not looking
Like a sprite or fairy godmother
living upstairs in the attic waiting
for me to discover myself
Not captured or tamed into
just another pretty face

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 May 2018
Image found at pinterest

the old woman + photos

the old woman sits
staring beyond the window
into her future
hovering beneath the sky
dancing in the setting sun

The words came to me this morning while I was sitting at my kitchen table, looking out the window at our back yard. Being with my adult children and their spouses always puts me in a pensive mood–along with the sheer joy of being in their company. Each visit feels a bit more precious than the last.

Our daughter and her husband have been here for several days. So far we’ve had a mix of cold and now very warm, moving toward hot weather later this week. I’m happy to say the attic guest room is a huge hit! On Monday we visited Longwood Gardens for an afternoon of picture-perfect weather. Yesterday we went for a late-afternoon walk along forested trails in Valley Forge Park. I’ll post photos later.

In the meantime, here are three more from our Longwood visit on Monday afternoon. Proof that Spring has arrived for sure.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 May 2018
Photos taken by DAFraser, 30 April 2018, Longwood Gardens

The Memory Unit

The Memory Unit gathers –

A motley congregation
faces the long, high pulpit and
double-locked entrance.
Weary attendants gather behind
the pulpit busy with paperwork
and a phone that never rings
for these lost sheep.

Women and men in varied
stages of present non-presence
watch and wait for what will not
arrive today or tomorrow.
In various stages and styles
of dress and distress they sit
on chairs or in wheelchairs or
lie strapped on trolleys to
avoid inconvenience or upset.
Some moan or shout while others
eerily silent stare and a few
bright-faced parishioners knowingly
greet everyone and no one passing by.

Silent or babbling, singing or shouting
repetitive statements and vociferous
objections to no one and everyone
in particular the congregation of
expectant supplicants searches
not for lost sheep or a shepherd
but for themselves and worlds
they can never re-enter even if
they come through the locked door
caring for and loving them as they are
if only for this passing moment.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 April 2018
Poem based on my memory of a visit several years ago to a Memory Unit in Philadelphia
Photo taken by Maja Daniels in a Memory Unit in France; found on npr.org

searching for Spring

haunting song
of a lone flicker
pierces cold damp air

azalea Springs
of pink coral and magenta
float in the distance

a teary sort
the woman searches for Spring
gone missing

Looking at these haiku, each written on a different day this past week, I’m struck by how well they tell me what’s happening. Not simply in nature, but in myself and in my life here in the USA where we seem stuck in a rut.

All I can do is follow my heart, the way these haiku follow it, and keep writing about it. There’s a blessing and a curse in being old enough to remember not just where we’ve been, but how eerily familiar the terrain feels. Especially in the realms of politics and religion.

And then there’s the unseen realm of things going on in my body and my spirit. Changes I didn’t ask for and never thought would happen to me.

All of it will play out. My part is to keep recording what I hear. When I’m able to write about it, I know I’m in touch with myself and I’m letting it go. Writing the last chapter of my life.

Looking forward to Sabbath rest,
Elouise

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 April 2018
Photo found at greengateturf.com

I wake, reluctant

Winter HaikuD is a wonderful resource for my fertile imagination. He trolls the internet from time to time looking for things he thinks I’ll enjoy. Or he forwards crazy stuff that shows up on his FB page.

He’s particularly fond of cartoons. So this was irresistible. What could be better? An irreverent haiku with illustration–certain to please me, his Queen!

I filed it away. No way was I going to put this indignity in the face of my refined readers! Of course it’s funny. I laughed ’til tears were streaming down my face.

My deepest apologies if you fail to relate to this post–or, heaven forbid, fail to find it funny.

D and I are off to Longwood Gardens today. The weather forecast says we might have temperatures in the high 70s (Fahrenheit)! A welcome change from late winter/early spring chills of the last months.

Happy Friday the 13th!

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 April 2018
Thanks to DAFraser for finding the cartoon

Life flew south last winter – encore

Why an encore? Because my March 31 post with all your comments has disappeared into the bowels of WP! That’s why. I have no idea why or when. I just know the post is gone. So here it is, minus your wonderful comments. I’m reposting it because I love it and want to see it out there. Sort of like my voice….Don’t mess with it! I love it, too, and want to see it live!

UPDATE: Thank you, John, for suggesting I look in the Trash Can. The original is now restored! Yay! And I have no idea how I did that, but it seems I am the culprit, not WP. Still, I’m leaving this one up…. Live and learn.

Life flew south last winter
Though I’m looking for its return
In vain I imagine it on
A southern beach somewhere
Soaking in rays of warmth
For this spring-starved season
Plus stories of birds and beasts
To lighten my waning energy
Sleeping day and night

Waking from a dream I search for
Resurrection of bones and sinews
With sight and sound and the mind
I used to have but find instead a
Stranger has taken my space
Demanding attention as the radio
Drones on about life out there
Though I no longer visit
Or entertain at home

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 March 2018
Photo found at pixabay – Baltic Sea Beach Clubs

Pieces of my mind

Pieces of my mind sprawl
Strewn before me across
The flat wilderness of my
Life now reduced to the
Size of my desktop littered
With small square papers in
Yellow, pink, light blue or
Lavender covered with words
And scattered like manna
Gone sour overnight

Reminders of what I may
Or may not want to do or
Read about or tell you once
Upon a time or show you
Someday when the time is
Right and I haven’t forgotten
What all the excitement was
About anyway

They sit there each morning
Looking my way bearing
well-intentioned witness to
multiple brilliant prompts now
transformed into misty clouds
Of plans and thoughts as yet
Unpursued though relieved by
Reduction to words jotted on
Small squares of paper the sum
Total of yesterday’s genius
Now staring at me wondering
Whether there is more to life
Than this

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 2018
Photo found at LinkedIn.com