(You will make best use of the following words, if you open the Savannah, Within A Month poem, in another tab.)**

It was brought to my attention that I somehow managed to write ALL of the emotion but too few clues in my piece to relay the entire story.

Though, this was done intentionally, due to my reluctance to actually tell the whole story, I do want you guys to be able to read the words written in between the lines, without my losing what I’ve created, by undoing the strings that weave in and about the poem:

In case you missed it, Judy first reviewed my poem commenting on the wistful feeling that appears throughout the piece and the additional sadness at the end. She thought that, perhaps, my father had left us.

Well.
Yes…and no.
This piece is a really twisty thing of a piece that hangs off the edge of, “Oh, I get it!”
… even for me.
But, it’s that deja vu bit that makes it hard to grasp.
So, let me lay out a few things:

The airport bit, at the end, was referring to when I would leave for Savannah
…indirectly “because,” of my dad leaving.

But, it was just a mental leaving, that happened.
He never actually left.

All of the emotion was there, but I chose to write, instead, about me leaving for Savannah, rather than my dad leaving for another woman.
So, I end up talking about what actually went on, but instead of ending the story with, “and then he left,” i end it with, “and then i left.”

I tend to have trouble putting issues I haven’t actually dealt with yet, into words.
I apologize.
But, somehow, talking about a direct “result” of the issue was easier.

But, the whole foreshadowing of his leaving (which is written in between the lines), shows up throughout the entire poem:

The mood of the relationship between my parents was written into the first stanza.

The way mum thought about the issues between her and my dad, into the second stanza.  

Me wondering about deja vu (and indirectly, from my current standpoint, the deja vu i had just recently (that im almost sure i had then - about them splitting)) + Mum’s frustration and the effect it was having on her, into third stanza.

My attitude about her burning her finger bc of my question, in the fourth.

Her brushing me off about all of it, in the fifth.

My attitude THEN about her brushing the question off + my attitude NOW about her brushing the entire situation off, in the sixth.


-Then, actual recent accounts of deja vu come into play-

I asked dad if he was “working late at the office again,” -
But, immediately, i zone out, bc i’m experiencing deja vu,
(the smell of grits, i inserted to, in a roundabout way, say that it was somehow connected to the earlier events in childhood),
except this time, though it felt like deja vu, it seemed as if i foresaw them splitting when i was younger, but i was seeing it…….just then?

(deja vu is already confusing - and this little twist on it took me for a spin!)

Either way,

The stolen wine bottle was from the deja vu i'd had - It is placed to foreshadow an event that WOULD take place (there is a literal wine bottle i need to secure lol),
But also, since it felt like a foreshadowing, in the past OF the past, the wine bottle symbolizes my parent’s marriage being stolen by another woman.

The still frozen cookies symbolize me feeling like I was, somehow, stuck in my childhood, when it all was happening.

P.S. Not relevant to the understanding of the story, but the cat doubles as me, attempting to get the answers I wanted. I wanted her to just "realize" and use her mother's intuition to just "know" what to say to me and how to say it. But, she didn't. "So, I just asked."

Je me disais : - Cet homme est-il un saltimbanque ?
Ne faut-il pas le plaindre ? Est-ce un sens qui lui manque ?
Il ne comprend donc pas ? Est-ce un aveugle-né ?
Un bègue ? Un sourd ? D'où vient que ce triste obstiné
Méconnaît tout génie et toute gloire, et rampe,
Tâchant d'éteindre l'astre et de souffler la lampe,
Et déchire, dénigre, insulte, blesse, nuit,
Et sur toute clarté va bavant de la nuit ? -

Maintenant je t'ai vu de près, ô misérable ;
J'ai vu ton œil, ton dos, ton échine, ton râble,
Ton crâne plat, ton ventre odieux ; et du doigt
Asmodée a levé le plafond de ton toit ;
Je t'ai vu te traîner, ivre et triste ; et, farouche,
Arracher en jouant les ailes d'une mouche.
J'ai vu ton rire, hélas ! Je n'ai pas vu tes pleurs.
Je t'ai vu haïr l'aube, et marcher sur les fleurs,
Et sans cesse écraser la vie à ton passage ;
Et battre les enfants, et cracher au visage
De cette fille à qui tu donnes quinze sous ;
J'ai vu tes vêtements dans l'ordure dissous ;
J'ai vu ton cœur sans Dieu, ta chambre sans cuvette ;
Je t'ai vu t'irriter au chant d'une fauvette,
Toujours plisser le front, toujours crisper le poing ;
Et j'ai compris pourquoi tu ne comprenais point.