FEAR (a limerick)
Since 2001, there’ve been panics
‘bout Arabs and gays and Hispanics
But never you fear
You will stay calm and clear
Just as long as you keep taking Xanax
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
TAKING IT WITH THEM
The girls are taking it with them
The secret shame, the reasons why
The scattered scars of late-night carving
The feeling fat starved unpopular neglected
Unprotected sex with unworthy boys
One took the bun and the oven too
They’ve left it all behind
School, grades, finals, college apps
Took off debt-free; no degree, no debris
No suitcases or makeup bags
No books or beanie babies collected at the mall
perhaps on weekends when they still hung with girlfriends
The farm is minus one pair of helping hands
And the family room, one less Bills fan
The market, one less cashier
The camp, one less counselor
Their school stripped their lockers of all reminders
and called in counselors because
Two girls left our town forever this month
No notes, no clues, no cries for help, no cues
Each in her own way on a different day, in a different way
Finally having their say: This is my life and I’ll do what I want
And that they did – one with drugs, one with a rope out back
They’re gone and they took it all with them
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
The prompt today was “After the Rain.” Took it to this past weekend in water-starved Philly; a mudslide in Topanga Canyon; and a flood in Attica, in which two people lost their lives trying to save animals from a vet’s office. But this one seemed apropos for today.
SALT WATER TORRENTIAL
Tears flow steadily surely certainly
Tissues stack teetering telling toppling
Therapist listens nodding knowing nudging
Time passes slowly softly swiftly
Tourist wonders why when how
she was brought to this strange place
of salt water headaches
of stories that go bump in the night
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were asked to conduct an interview… here is one conversation I would love to have. Amy
A SEEKER SPEAKS TO THE MAGDALENE (Interview, Big Tent)
(Seeker) To witness your Lord
hanging on that cross
Bloodied, his voice parched
Can you see it, even now?
(Mary Magdalene) Waving crows off his face
lest they peck out his eyes
That vision is burned into my mind
My heart is crushed again and again
(S) They called you crazy
A whore and more
So afraid of you, the men
threw out your Gospel
(MM) Over the years, I was
discredited, my story edited
Details tacked on me
like cheap jewels, it’s true
(S) You used your wealth
to finance the ministry
You learned to heal
Trained, same as the men
(MM) But men had the power
Freer to travel alone in the world
I tried to teach, but without the Rabbi
they berated me
(S) We know your strength, sister
You risked your life to find his grave
He revealed his risen self to you first
You never ran away to hide
(MM) Women are the bearers and keepers
Women understand risk
We bleed; we heal; we wait
We love; we are patient, like the Spirit
(S) Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
The Epistles of Paul
The Revelation of John
But no Gospel of the Magdelene
(MM) I was left out of the Bible
But I don’t need that validation
The Divine Sofia, the Spirit of Wisdom spoke
Her voice is true… I am content with love
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
THE ESSENCE OF DEPRESSION
there was a time, long ago
yesterday
when i thought it was wasn’t worth it
this living thing
so hard to catch my breath
standing in one place slackjawed, staring
forcing, willing myself – one step, then another
finally achieving the second floor
but why did i come up here?
something about cleaning or laundry or
taking a nap instead – then be up all night writing
ceiling fan whirling overhead my only company
But this morning I woke up and was alive all day
Wrote letters, paid some bills
Crafted poems, worked on my blog
Went outside for an actual walk
My neighbor was mowing her lawn
The scent filled me with memories of our yard when I was a kid
Lying in the grass next to the wildflower riot
of the Back Forty, past the carefully mown grass
Queen Anne’s Lace, milkweed, sumac
Timothy grass, pussywillows, wild lilac trees
Black-eyed Susans swaying flirtatiously
As a light rain fell in a rainbow mist
The colors of the yard after the shower let up
Golden light cast stark afternoon shadows
Grass glowed lemon-lime
The indomitable magnolia bush was ablaze
I lay on my belly
Inspecting Indian Paintbrush and
Wild violets, small miracle of
Haphazard, brilliant, fulsome Nature
We could leave our bikes in anybody’s yard
Dogs belonged to all of us, and we belonged to them
Everything seemed possible then
And today, it still does
When the dark days hit
I accept them for what they are
I am familiar by now with the depths
I can see in the dark, dimly
I cannot smell the fresh-cut grass
From that distant place
I can’t roll in wildflowers
Those things are out of reach, cut off
But not forever – it only feels that way
Hang out hang in hang on
It will slough off like snake skin
Scaly, dead, useless
And I will emerge reborn
Senses awakened, songs of life
Reverberating, a chord struck
From deep within
© Amy Barlow Liberatore, 2010, Sharp Little Pencil
One Single Impression asked us to write a poem around the theme, “Dawn.” I was going to write about Mary Ann on Gilligan’s Island, Dawn Wells, but darned if I didn’t go a little deeper!
IT DAWNED ON ME
It dawned on me during a down
that depression is a gift
A room all to oneself
dim, yet habitable
with the sure knowledge
that gloom will fade; the haze will lift
Shifting moods
sifting sand between my toes
Depression’s night is so dark
one doesn’t look up
seeking stars
nor speak of the moon
The lifting is like dawn
a clean new day
made for venturing
beyond the front door
Flowers’ scent sweeter
sun illuminating
individual blades of grass
as they cast minute shadows
And then there’s
the thanking God part…
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
If you are manic-depressive, you’ll understand. If you’re not, try to understand… and ‘walk a mile in my Keds’! Amy
ON A DIME, IN A FLASH
Flopped on the couch like a road toad
flat as flannel
Brain accepts invisible code
BING! A channel
goes live – I’m up and about
Pop! Goes the manic
Look! The sun’s shining after all
Outside in a panic
Walking so fast my mind can’t keep up
Store. Buy. Food.
On the way walk home, starting to slip
home… not so… good…
Now that was one fast-cycling episode
Food barely to the kitchen
I’m back on the couch, potato load
Bipolar bitchin’
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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