Living beyond.
Written at the Blue Angel, Windermere
Sylvia, why do you speak to me
Forever 31, while I am 33.
Is it that plane where
we live, together,
you and I
In sisterhood?
What becomes of me
Because you left,
Afraid
Of what life was
Or what life had become?
We never lived
together, for you
were 13 years
In Mother earth
before my tender feet
hit terra firma
But our kindred
ship is close
And I reach out
Through time
And grasp your hand
Wishing you had
Dared to live.
I feel I would be
better
If you were alive
As a guide
To this illness
And though the
napkin is removed
we still see the
beauty
That was your words.
And now Nick
joins you,
Not escaping your
genetic generosity.
No longer chasing
Dreams of a place
Where we find
Home.
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1 comment:
This if fabulous, Tory, and gave me tingles. The short lines and direct comments right to Sylvia and to us really work. This subject is very close to me because Plath was just about the only female poet we had as a role model when I was a teenager so I did wish for someone who could show us how to live as a writer, and with that depression many writers suffer. You really get all of that across plus the way a poem reaches out and touches us as if that poet is saying it to us at that moment, as if we know them.
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