Day #48: Shared Souls

#48

 

Questions for adoption book: what impact does class have on adoption? I had an interesting conversation with one of the women whose story is in my book.  I am curious to know how others feel about class as a factor in their story.

 

I've written a lot today, but none of it is blog appropriate.  I seem to be too full of over emotional personal thoughts. It seems to be the pattern.  I get anchored enough to do some interviewing and writing and then I go in to a highly personal space.  So instead of posting any of my rants of the day I am posting an old poem.  (My poetry deals with ghosts, a lot.)

 

Shared Souls

This morning when you

Slipped on top of me

I was only reminded of mistakes,

 times I’d hurt someone

or mishandled

something delicate.

This morning when your weightless presence

came to balance upon my mass

I did not perceive you

in our natural state of comfort.

I perceived you as a ghost.

I did not feel your kiss.

I did not hear your gentle breath.

I just knew you were there

offering me something

you thought consoling.

It was painful imagery.

I didn’t feel the presence

of the dogs either

 

I did not see them

curdled up together on the rug.

 

 

Nor was my Grandmother Whiton present

Nor her great- aunts

in their African clothes,

large bellies

soft skin.

 

You slipped in on top of me

Like you were my favorite glove

 wrapped around me.

Holding me in time

in 2 dimensions.

I smelled your breath

Why do ghosts have breath?

Why do they need to take in oxygen?

I took in a large deep breath

all the way down into

the pit of my belly,

deep down – feeling

blood fly through

even the smallest vein.

I feel every inch of my own body.

Blood slips below my knee caps,

down into the heal and arch

of my right foot.

 

 

Immediately, it makes me sleep again

 

Triggered

Satiated.

I must rise,

leave the spirit world

stand in the physical

reality.

You are gone.