Lean in: hear the raw singing

Can the river be faulted. It is just
doing its thing and you step in. If

you didn’t see the rapids running,
(they are not horses so don’t even

say it, say the bare thing: rapids)
if you don’t see the rapids coming

to snatch the roots from under
your ankles, you aren’t really

watching, are you. Or maybe
you are, but that blue thing

that has always been dormant
in your eyes sees its source &

can’t arrest the urge to wade
among it. To absorb the prickly

sentience of roaring water.
To understand that four letter

word you’ve so often seen written
but never quite understood. Life.

Is a series of waterways and sheers.
A long medieval road that might

have once been a river. Everyone
is vulnerable to the water’s leanings,

right. To the sudden onrush inherent
with heavy rain. Some just have roots

that thrive on being pulled among pools
where breath is not free. You should know

this and be ready to drown if you choose
to follow. Vulnerability is a murder

of crows. From a distance a stranger
hears bird calls break the steady silence

of a predawn atmosphere. The birds
within you caw at separate heights &

expose your presence among red
leaves and stones. Calling the waiting

hunter to grab each bird by the neck
& snuff the anthem. Inhume the dark

clamber in native dirt. Where it can
at once be displaced by the coming

law and force of the river

Author's Note

Addiction has many faces, and hunters searching every face. This is not meant as an indictment of the addicted, more an exploration of vulnerability

Reviews

[SkinlessFrank]

This makes me think back to two adolescent friends who sadly overdosed. You are correct. It could have just as easily been you or I or your best friend. That’s the odd thing about addiction as you make clear within this piece. We are all in the river and we all know that we are. We know about the rapids and how we can lose our footing. And I wonder just how many have stumbled intentionally, or perhaps out or simple curiosity or just knowing carelessness.

Yet another part of me though sees this poem not as an ode to addiction, but rather as a cautionary tale about the ensnaring weedy vines that would entangled us were we to let go and give up on living.

[Eilis]

I think some are more susceptible than others. Circumstance can be a vicious beast. I did write this for a few people who I knew to be struggling at the time. It feel very raw to me then watching the ease in and the inability to stop the water from pulling deeper. I try to always be mindful that it could be me at any time if I lost my grip on whatever it is that keeps me sober.

Thanks for your readings and engagement with my poems. I do appreciate your perspective.

[Beccy]

The ebb and flow and the current of life writ large. Some simply ebb and flow, utilising the energy to their own bland advantage, even if they don't fully understand the how or the why, (blessed are they that cannot see.) Others allow the undertow of the current to absorb and drown them; but by different degrees and in different ways, we are all vulnerable, especially to pervasive outside influence.

Aside from the many, many, different ways we respond to such influences; I think in a way, it's the human drive and spirit calling. Move forward no matter, for with no risk, comes no gain, thrilling to that little frisson of danger, even though we know it is foolish and wrong, and which often becomes a siren call impossible to ignore.

This is a deep poem and yet still only scratches the surface of what lies within us all; and I suppose that's as much as we can hope for really, as life, both temporal and spiritual, is such a complex equation.

Beccy.

[Eilis]

Thank you for this in depth comment, Beccy. I love your idea that blessed are they that cannot see. And you have so much wisdom to share here, I appreciate that.

You’re right we are all vulnerable. It seems to be woven into the very nature of existence. I guess I’m trying to explore the idea of an emotional or psychological vulnerability that leaves some unduly open to difficulties. I have an adopted brother who was born with fetal alcohol syndrome and he’s struggled his whole life. Somedays it feels like he never had a chance no matter what we did for him.

I love all you had to say on this. It’s really helpful to read all these things and see what every one else sees as I’m still figuring it out myself.

Thanks for your time and thoughts. I hope you have a lovely Christmas with your family!

[gram linski]

my favourite poem. the addiction, the river the pull of the tide, despite the harm it will do, some amazing writing, really don't know where to start, be ready to drown if you choose to follow, vulnerability is a murder... the break up of the line gives it double meaning and intent, stunning stuff, Eilis,

[Eilis]

Thanks, Gram. There is something about knowing but going ahead anyway. I try to understand this. And also just the concept of vulnerability itself and how people respond to it.

I remember reading that babies are born with certain features that create empathy in the adults who must care for them. But how those feelings shift as we age. Vulnerability seems to mark you as a target in many ways. I don’t know. Still thinking about it. I guess that’s why the poem feels a bit like an acid trip. In my mind anyway.

I’m glad you noticed the enjambment. It was an important part of this one.

Thanks for the great comment.

[emmajoy]

'Some just have roots

that thrive on being pulled among pools
where breath is not free. You should know

this and be ready to drown if you choose
to follow. Vulnerability is a murder

of crows.;

That calling is a thief of understanding self and the all around in conflict. Perhaps, surely? So many beckonings to do and be what is foreign, so many warnings of danger and the unforgiving. And so much more. The way in which you write here is perceptive, addictive in itself.. to slip from couplet to couplet, following a thread of seemingly awkwardness is in fact chinks of light, of looking forward so as to absorb more. Takes some reading, more than once.. but is extraordinary, dare I say, unique. Yes, I dare.

[Eilis]

Thank you, Emma. I realize it is a challenging poem, as you note, so I am glad you felt the heart of it. And I appreciate your kind words as well.

I do believe the calling is a thief, yes. And not always something easily defined. Thank you for reading.

[emmajoy]

A labour of need, Ellis.. and so worth the effort. Unsure I hit the inner of your thoughts but, i tried and it's all one can do. (Just thought I might be an Argo-nought!)

[Eilis]

I feel like you understood the inner, Emma. Thanks, again.