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the asteroid hit the earth so long ago that                                                              i do not remember a time before.   (the bones of dinosaurs do not remember a time before they were petrified into brittle and fragile memories; the moon does not recall who she was before she got stuck in the earth’s orbit; uranus knows nothing of how he came to spin on his side.) you could stick your hand through any of the gas giants and find                                                           your whole body                                                            sliding through.   this same theory can be applied to my skin.  i have very little gravity, or at least it feels that way most days. maybe it depends on how you look at it: one way is perfect, and the other all wrong.  the woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead.  she could either be a stranger or my mother.  the head or the tail.  the light or the dark.  the two sides of the moon.  the comet striking through the night sky.  the interdimensional toll could refuse to let you through.  the cult could accept or deny your entry request.  there is one and there is the other.  the upside down.  the rightside up.  the parallel universe.  the evil twin.  it’s fresh and then it’s rotten.  this could either hurt a lot or a little.  it depends on how much you let in: how willing you are to bend to the emotional blow. science says that the human body tends to                                                             forget physical pain as a survival tactic. but science says jack **** about emotional pain. so am i living?  or am i just existing?      the difference is six feet deep.
0
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 12:14 AM UTC
the social worker in me needs to point out how the first stanza of this poem could pass as an extended metaphor for generational trauma
the asteroid hit the earth so long ago that                                                              i do not remember a time before.   (the bones of dinosaurs do not remember a time before they were petrified into brittle and fragile memories; the moon does not recall who she was before she got stuck in the earth’s orbit; uranus knows nothing of how he came to spin on his side.) you could stick your hand through any of the gas giants and find                                                           your whole body                                                            sliding through.   this same theory can be applied to my skin.  i have very little gravity, or at least it feels that way most days. maybe it depends on how you look at it: one way is perfect, and the other all wrong.  the woman in the casket could either be sleeping or dead.  she could either be a stranger or my mother.  the head or the tail.  the light or the dark.  the two sides of the moon.  the comet striking through the night sky.  the interdimensional toll could refuse to let you through.  the cult could accept or deny your entry request.  there is one and there is the other.  the upside down.  the rightside up.  the parallel universe.  the evil twin.  it’s fresh and then it’s rotten.  this could either hurt a lot or a little.  it depends on how much you let in: how willing you are to bend to the emotional blow. science says that the human body tends to                                                             forget physical pain as a survival tactic. but science says jack **** about emotional pain. so am i living?  or am i just existing?      the difference is six feet deep.
writing your grief prompt three: how do you live in a landscape so vastly changed?
#grief#loss#death#mother#family#perspective#science#astronomy#memory#trauma
taylor-st-onge
Written by
taylor-st-onge
F/American
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 12:14 AM UTC
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