Not a Poet—is a mini-series sharing personal prose (and poetry) that stir and/or settle the soul. You can read more prose from my archive Like the tide, you may come and go, and not come again. I seem to be on a water theme at the moment.
I hate the legend of banshees. What a unsettling folk tale. I don’t like thinking about such things.
It reminds me of a bird we have in Australia that screams at night and sounds like a crying child. It chills you to the core and disturbs your soul.
Sometimes the things that we write can have a similar effect. In a moment of heightened angst we allow emotions to flow from our heart onto the paper.
Only once we look back on what was written do we think, am I okay?
Reflective writing and poetry can be a powerful tool for expressing subconscious turmoil. Sometimes it’s an acute response to stress, while other times it hints at a more chronic state of mental health.
I wrote this piece during the stressful weeks leading up to my wedding. I remember the inner turbulence and mental strain. Writing helped to release some of that compressed anxiety.
I find it hard to connect with it now (almost 5 years later). But I think the choppy thoughts of that season reflect my strong current of emotions. Something was obviously stirring in the deepwater of my soul, resulting in an overflow of words that buoyed my spirit through those tidal times.
I guess that’s what poetry can help us do; express, process, reflect and resolve.
I think poetry is mostly for the person writing it, in the moment they are writing it. It’s a form of therapy that isn’t necessarily meant for anyone else; although a bonus if others resonate with the words.
The point of writing is to help you to cultivate an estuary where the briny thoughts and feelings are able to cascade through the floodgate down to the coastline of your soul, where they are released into open waters; to dissolve and dissipate, and free yourself of the crushing heaviness.
I’ve been finding it hard to connect with other peoples prose and poetry. I’m not sure why I’m unable to empathise with their words or feel their meaning. Maybe I haven’t read widely enough. Maybe connecting with poetry is a muscle I need to exercise—or a state I need to relax into. I’m not sure. I’m still so new to it all. It’s an interesting journey, either way.
I could really use some guidance. Any show of hands?
1:17pm, 1st September 2019
How deep is the ocean?
What resides beneath the frantic waves?
They rumble and crash, and reach for the wind, that screams as it runs from itself.
Why is the sea still beneath its lip? That quivers with pain and shivers in anger.
Sailors would not dare weather her storm, for they would be consumed by her wash, and sink within her folds.
But what then?
If they looked towards the surface as they sunk towards the depths, how they would blink away their salty tears.
Within the calm embrace of the waters, they would ask, who angered her?
Pray darling, why do you tremble with tempests?
Please do not swallow me because of what was disturbed within your inner peace.
Darling, return me to the breath that I desire, and calm your spirit. So that I way navigate your swell, and sail safely to shore.
Darling be still.
Thank you for reading Not a Poet. If you have any poetry you think I’d benefit from reading, please share in the comments. I’m a beginner-beginner when it comes to poetry and need all the help I can get.
Chloe