Stress is the cleaver
That hacks the flesh from my bones,
With a direct correlation
Between
The weight
On my mind,
And the weight shed
From my body.
Like a tree in autumn,
Retreating inward,
My body is folding in on itself,
Conserving its core,
Until a new season
Of blossom.
Whoa!!! damnjordan is back! This hit me like a bolt from the blue… twice I was startled and delighted at the imagery blooming in my mind and how deftly you planted it there. You present two equally sharp metaphors that are instantly relatable, yet with a feeling of constructive utility.
The first stanza put a sharp instrument in my hand with the explicit warning that the blade was turned against my own body under the weight of my thoughts… with the hidden promise that “lightening up” eased the threat. The second stanza gave the gift of a longer view and the seasonality – even necessity – of such discomfort. If stress acts to prune extraneous mental projections and shed annual overgrowth, I can take comfort in retreating in to my core… awaiting the bloom of a new cycle and energy to branch out again.
:claps:
Hey man,
Thanks for your feedback on this one — this was the first real, non-haiku poem I have written since 2014, and it is exciting to be both writing and sharing again. And as usual, your commentary is spot on. I wanted the violence of the first stanza to be balanced by the cyclical nature of the second — to recognize that yes, there is this feeling of wasting away right now, but that it will pass (as it always does) and the discomfort will produce and grow into something new (eventually). I did debate the use of the mixed metaphors, but again, I liked the balance of the imagery more than I liked the idea of keeping one metaphor throughout the whole thing.
Anyways, thanks again. Like I said, it is fun to be writing again, and it is exciting to share these poems and hear your feedback!