Would That I Might

I received the first response for my most recent chapbook manuscript, which was a rejection.  It feels significant, and the timing, as I am beginning work on a longer collection, adds to it, but I need to allow myself to let go of that.  The truth is that I am hurting.  I feel, quite often, that the efforts I make to improve my life and move towards my goals are stagnant, and I cannot find anyone to offer real solutions.  This is not only in terms of my writing, but that is a major example for me.  I need to find a way forward, and getting work published would feel like a real step in that direction.  

Tree I do not have any fruit growing in my yard. I had hoped I would, had thought to plant trees, but that was when I thought this would be home for the future.  I do not want to plant a tree in this yard, I do not want to plant it knowing I will leave it behind.

 It is difficult for me to write about things without disguising it, most of the time.  I have been working to be more direct, and to reveal more, even when it may frighten me.  The poem I posted tonight, whatever it may or may not be artistically, was a step in that direction, for me, I think, and I am glad for it, though it may seem minor to most people.  I know it might hurt someone I love, and that scares me, but I hope, if it is read by my brother, or others in my family who it impacts, that it can be seen as me processing and expressing things I do not feel safe stating to them, and that it might be healthier if we could work on having a more honest relationship.  Of course, the real thing is my fear that it could cause harm, but their is already much that has been damaged, and I want to feel free to, at least, write about my experiences in the world.

My Brother's Closing Was Yesterday I am told to offer congratulations, to say something to you now that you have arrived. It is done, now, you have completed what I asked you not to start before it was ever even a notion, and now I am asked to congratulate you, told I was  wrong to have not yet said congratulations, so congratulations, congratulations for what you have done, congratulations you have stabbed through my heart.

I had a very productive conversation with Freesia McKee this morning in which we began to focus on ideas for the manuscript I have been discussing.  I feel quite fortunate to have a person I trust to work with on this project, and it is particularly helpful at this stage, since I am wanting to discuss these ideas, but don't want to do so in a way that is not focused towards the goal itself.  It can be tempting to just talk about a project of this sort, and that can feel like a natural way to organize the ideas, but it can be a trap, as the impulse to create the work is often driven by the desire to communicate the core idea.  In talking with a person who is external to the project, that energy can be dissipated, but because I have a collaborator, I can discuss these ideas in a way that is constructive and builds that energy.  That I trust Freesia and am excited for her contributions to the project are of even greater value, and I feel that our conversation today was ...

Sun, I Know You Will Return I am glad for the company that the moon provides while you are away, but it is not the same, the moon is not brilliant as you are; the world is dark, grows cold without you. The morning will come, I know it is coming, but it is not so soon I cannot miss you.

 There is a split, right now, for me as I consider my writing.  On one hand, as I have expressed, I feel that I am making a lot of progress and working towards important creative goals, both in my process and in work I am attempting.  I feel a sense of growing and gaining in my own creative power. At the same time, I am also feeling quite dejected about my current experiences with publishing.  I have more than ninety rejections on my submittable page at the moment, without any acceptances.  I cannot help feeling that hundredth rejection looming, as though it is important.  I know that is in my mind, but I also do not feel I can see that without feeling that it must reflect something real.  I don't want to allow this to derail me, but it eats at me, even as I know I am working to create something that will succeed, the feeling that I am failing does not relent.