(re my memoir about conducting poetry workshops in Pentridge in the early eighties)
For months and years
I’ve been writing the prison,
that place of darkness
which haunts me still.
An exorcism? A record?
A witness statement?
There are times I want to
stamp on the memories,
feel them crunch under my boots
like broken glass – traversing
yet again the stages of grief,
arriving again at anger.
But that’s temporary.
Let me instead celebrate
in these recollections
those who did not succumb
to the institutional boot
on the neck: those
who refused to break,
reassembling their own fragments
over and over again,
spitting them out as poems,
mending their shattered segments
with lines of gold, of light.
Written in response to my own prompt for Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings #84: to be inspired by the phrase, 'Broken glass crunching under the boot steps.'
(My soon-to-be-published memoir begins with a long poem – quite different from this one – called 'Writing the Prison'.)
Oh I like this, Rosemary. I liked all of your prison writings that I have read but this one tells it just like it is. It also reminded me of a friend who taught in prison, he had some good stories to tell, some really sad.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the prompt, that broken glass reminded me of food no longer useful. It is true, happened to me this morning.
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Thanks, Jim – and sorry about your incident this morning.
DeleteOh, now that I've read your poem about it, I see that commiserations are not needed, lol.
DeleteI suppose a memoir too, becomes a beautiful object that has been mended with light (what a beautiful thought that is)... I think when your three-part series is done, it will shine bright. Looking forward to it.
ReplyDeleteRight now we (book designer and me) are deep in the nitty-gritty of preparing the three volumes for print. Sometimes I feel, as I said to Rommy a little while ago, that my head is trying to occupy too many hats at once! However, we're well on the way.
DeleteReassembling fragments … lines of light … in the darkest hours there is healing that can be done and how fortuitous to be part of that process for some.
ReplyDeleteIndeed yes!
DeleteIntense. I felt the boot and the tension. I taught to children at a parent run cooperative school, and that was so much easier. Thanks for the Ars Poetica comment. I had to look it up and yes, I have many and have started a file.
ReplyDeleteOh good!
DeleteMemories one wants to crunch...interesting use of the prompt!
ReplyDeleteAlways interesting to find where a prompt may lead.
DeleteI love the positive path you journeyed in this poem ... unbreakable. it's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Helen.
DeleteThere is a touch of the rebel here who does not cower down by the. Dictums of the reactionaries.
ReplyDeleteOh yes!
DeleteI think it takes a special kind of person to work in a prison....an especially kind kind of person...thos prisoners were lucky to have you as their teacher....Rall
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rall. They were very appreciative. I also gained from the experience.
Deletei guess this is a celebration of sorts, the prison book, because it is not easy working with prisoners and in a prison setting.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on your soon-to-be-published memoir!
Yes, I guess it is. And no it wasn’t easy, though in some ways a joy.
DeleteThank you.
I love this specially the last lines ..
ReplyDeletevery much indeed a tribute to us poets too
*Smile*
DeleteYou bring out the strength people can have as opposed to the broken glass.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I'm glad to know that.
Delete