Breath Won

In response to ReadWritePoem.Org

Get Your Poem On:Prompt #91

(Perhaps the best Poetry Prompt I have

ever used as inspiration.)

 

If you are a poet or creative writer

of any sort check out the prompt

after you read my poem, PLEASE....

 

I had to become intimate

With the Coyote before

She allowed me to look into

Her eyes, to see myself

Reflected in the gold of

Her iris

My feet shouted run and

My breath crooned stay

Breath won

I stayed

The sun, never too warm there,

Hitting my skin. His voice, the one

I still hear in my head. Fine

sandpaper voice. Low.

(Not too low.)

Prone to laughter. So many freckles.

So very smart. Almost too smart,

yet never show-offy in the smartness.

Our voices and my pulse racing I hear us

Bickering about ridiculousness

quarterflash vs pat benatar

would we have fought over silly stuff

if we understood our time was finite?

I wonder?

I wonder.

The gold of His iris reflected my wink

when I walked towards the altar

before his bride.

Catching the reminder of his gold iris

coming towards me from the airport

hallway, LAX, tired, late, red-eyes

times three, or perhaps four, long

island iced teas hanging in the space

between us all slippery sweet

“you cut your hair”

not sure if he loved or hated it

or whether or not that should

matter, anyway

His howl tugged me, drew

Me and the grown men surrounding

Him, Giant sentries imprisoning

His tiny in comparison frame

Why were they holding him,

My howling child, captive?

Is this how to effect positive change?

No thought was involved in

Bursting through their testosterone,

Nearing middle aged arm crossed

Barricade.

This is my son.

My five-year-old son.

Howling.

Because he can not say what he

Wants to say.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to

It is that he can’t.

He resorts to howling, wailing,

Moaning and somehow

In their coal, black eyes

That makes him wrong

They had to become intimate

With the Coyote before

He would allow them look into

His eyes, to see themselves

Reflected in the gold of

His iris

Loving me. Needing me too much at

times. Wanting me to go. Unsure.

Always loving me, even when I moved

Avoidance.  Not really avoidance but

avoidance of unknown phone. pumping gas.

not wanting to describe my falling apart

because perhaps….

Protecting.

Oh, that made me angry.  

gold light, inside the institutional,

claustrophobic brick. How I wish I had

gone, just once.

Trust my paint.  He understood.

Sharing stories late into the night.

 “flawless” and “for love” and

he let me discover horror for myself.

Again, that light. That sweet glow that

isn’t seen without training the eye or

looking in the right places.

Knowing strengths, weaknesses. Always

suggesting projects. Wanting my presence.

Wanting my footprints alongside his in the snow.

Wanting to remember.

Wanting us to remember together.

Being unafraid and being brutally honest

still allowing rainfall from what

wanted to be born.

The last show. The naked ass, the

tattoo on the naked ass, the harvest

field of what would kill him. I didn’t

want to look

I did.

I saw it in his discomfort on the sofa,

so low, sitting acting, only the slightest

pain a flashlight from his eyes.

Hospital smells. Crowded. Tiring.

Walking as a dirge. The inevitable.

Fighting without strength. Touch.

I remember touch.

I would have thought I would

remember smell.

My feet shouted run and

My breath crooned stay

Breath won

I stayed

Comments

[Amulya Rajan]

Very very very powerful...

[gautami tripathy]

Wonderful poery. I really love reading your works!

misty, dusty

[Derrick]

There is so very much in this Julie and I wish I understood all that you are saying. Powerful it certainly is and with beautiful images.
"Fine/sandpaper voice"
and
"long/island iced teas hanging in the space/between us all slippery sweet"
and
"only the slightest/pain a flashlight from his eyes"
are just a few of the wonderful lines. Not to mention of course the repetition of the title.

[Therese Broderick]

Inspiration is all about breath -- the drawing in of air, inhaling. In this poem, you are inspired to write about breath itself, about staying within a breathless voice for many, many lines.

[Francis Scudellari]

I could feel the emotions in this very strongly. I really liked the framing lines:

My feet shouted run and
My breath crooned stay
Breath won

And I was very glad "Breath won."

[nubia]

the first two lines are really striking

"I had to become intimate
With the Coyote before"

The word "intimate" immediately suggested to me a romantic intimacy. Then when I read "with the coyote" i was pleasantly surprised and the word "intimate" suggested something different and projected a much more curious and powerful meaning.

lovely.

[Julie Jordan Scott]

@amulya - I was so grateful to get a response. This writing took a lot of energy from me and yet thrilled me at the same time. I felt like I was starving for feedback so yours helped me get to sleep! LOL

@guatami - thank you for consistently reading and pointing out what works in my poetry.

@Derrick - Your comment made me pause - I appreciate the candor AND I am glad the images spoke to you. I was sharing about several friends who died in parts of the poem and then what I wanted to remember: connection... a moment of deep connection laced throughout is actually howling with my city dwelling coyote friends. My friend Coryn and I make this a regular practice on the full moon.

@Terese - I almost felt too many breathless lines, even after editing. Thank you for the recognition!

@Francis - Your comment brought tears to my eyes. I have never felt the way I felt when I communed with a coyote, seeing her eyes and the glinting from our eye contact - yes, a wild coyote, howling with her. Feeling very dangerous yet incredibly peace-filled. Thank you.

@nubia - I love using surprise... I am glad the word combination drew you in.

Thank you, everyone, for comments. This poem was one that took me a week of re-experiencing to write... so it means a lot that you took both the time to read and the time to comment.

[Donna Martin]

I think your poem is full of emotion that I will have to read four or five times to get it. I want to feel your emotion so i know what to say! Love you!!!!

[Nicole Nicholson]

All I have to say is wow. Very powerful. I would love to hear this performed.

Cheers,

Nicole

[davidmoolten.wordpress.com]

I like the long skinny flowing scope of this; it's like a breath, a deep breath that someone has to hold. And there was that sense of determined patience to see the difficult through in the poem's subject. There was also a good bit of the mythical, with the Coyote motif, which gave the poem intrigue and depth.

[Nathan]

This is filled with an honest intensity. The way you weave the image of the iris through these lines is incredible.

[Paul Oakley]

Again, that light. That sweet glow that
isn’t seen without training the eye or
looking in the right places.
Knowing strengths, weaknesses. Always
suggesting projects. Wanting my presence.

Wrenching! Wonderful writing, Julie.

[sarah]

The start of this was just wonderful and I was also nicely surprised that Coyote is female here. The emotion just absolutely hammers itself out of the white screen.

[Donald Harbour]

The mixture of emotion projected through the imagery of your words draws one into your poem. It becomes an experience. That ability is a gift.
DH

[DJ Vorreyer]

The breathless lines and leaps from image to image give the poem a raw feeling that one would associate with the wildness of the animal that serves as the anchoring image. I would agree with Derrick, however, that I'm not always sure what is going on in the poem or who is who.

[Erin]

Powerful, powerful, powerful. I will revisit this one.

[wayne]

lovely read...all about breathing for sure....and female coyote is nice.....we have coyotes running through our yard (pasture) daily always trying to trap our dog...but she is too smart....also our friend is a singer/songwriter....Carl Coyote is his stage name...keep up the great writing