I don’t usually post or write poems in response to current events, political issues, etc. It’s just not me. But last week, I wanted to write a poem using a random word from a Twitter or Facebook friend. I had decided to write a poem that included an apple, somehow (probably because I am in the process of tagging all my poems, and I had just read an old one about apples). So I asked on my FB Page and on Twitter for one word that does NOT seem to describe an apple. @RenKirchner gave me bitter, and I decided to go with that. I thought about when an apple might be bitter, and Snow White and Adam and Eve came to mind. But then the victims of the Charleston shooting were in my thoughts, and my sorrow came out in this poem instead.
On a personal note, years ago I wrote some short pieces for the Star Tribune where I would go to a different church each week and write about it for the paper. One week, my then-10-year-old daughter Maddie and I went to a local AME service. We were the only white people in the church, and we are very white! When they asked visitors to stand, all heads swiveled toward us, with big smiles. It was a really different church experience, but I remember how welcomed we were at that service, though we were total strangers and totally different–on the surface.
So reading about the shooting (and I haven’t read much about it because I just can’t), I pictured this guy going in there and being welcomed into the prayer session and…well, that’s it. I just can’t wrap my heart around it.
38 Responses
Laura,
Such a tragic story from Charleston. Your bitter apples, twisted limbs, and racist ground show the backstory. The conclusion shares the hope for a better tomorrow. Well done! Prayers of healing offered up!
Thank you, Linda.
Laura,
Such a tragic story from Charleston. Your bitter apples, twisted limbs, and racist ground show the backstory. The conclusion shares the hope for a better tomorrow. Well done! Prayers of healing offered up!
Thank you, Linda.
Laura, your poem has so much wisdom in so few words. Thanks for furnishing the words and space for dialogue. Wednesday was a sad day for all of us. One step forward, three back, or so it seems. We can only begin anew. Remembering Charleston and all of its citizens.
Thanks, Martha. Here’s to that next step forward!
Laura, your poem has so much wisdom in so few words. Thanks for furnishing the words and space for dialogue. Wednesday was a sad day for all of us. One step forward, three back, or so it seems. We can only begin anew. Remembering Charleston and all of its citizens.
Thanks, Martha. Here’s to that next step forward!
Thank you for your poem, Laura. Thank you for “going there.”
Thanks, Michelle. “There” is not my comfort zone!
Thank you for your poem, Laura. Thank you for “going there.”
Thanks, Michelle. “There” is not my comfort zone!
It’s so hard to be hopeful in the face of tragedy–thank you for sharing your sorrow and your hope. Your final stanza reminded me of this psalm: “Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.”
That’s lovely, Buffy. Thanks for sharing.
It’s so hard to be hopeful in the face of tragedy–thank you for sharing your sorrow and your hope. Your final stanza reminded me of this psalm: “Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.”
That’s lovely, Buffy. Thanks for sharing.
Sadly tragic, yet beautiful poem, Laura.
Sadly tragic, yet beautiful poem, Laura.
Ooh, well done. This reminds me of Blake’s “The Poison Tree” as well. But, at least this time, planting again means perhaps a different harvest…
We can hope… Thanks, Tanita.
Ooh, well done. This reminds me of Blake’s “The Poison Tree” as well. But, at least this time, planting again means perhaps a different harvest…
We can hope… Thanks, Tanita.
Thank you for the beautiful poem. I felt hopeful reading it. (I also appreciated that you shared your process.)
Thanks, Kathy. 🙂
Thank you for the beautiful poem. I felt hopeful reading it. (I also appreciated that you shared your process.)
Thanks, Kathy. 🙂
I know what you mean about not wanting to read about events like these. I can’t either. Fortunately there aren’t as many crazies in the world as the news scares us into thinking. But when there is an incident it is overwhelming and overshadowing. Well put thoughts in this piece.
THanks, Donna. I still have occasional nightmares about a dog I saw hit by a truck almost 30 years ago, so I don’t let myself go to dark places very often in my poetry. Not real-life dark places, anyway! And I try not to fill my mind with them from the news, because I become rather obsessed when I do (obviously, as evidenced by the dog nightmares!).
I know what you mean about not wanting to read about events like these. I can’t either. Fortunately there aren’t as many crazies in the world as the news scares us into thinking. But when there is an incident it is overwhelming and overshadowing. Well put thoughts in this piece.
THanks, Donna. I still have occasional nightmares about a dog I saw hit by a truck almost 30 years ago, so I don’t let myself go to dark places very often in my poetry. Not real-life dark places, anyway! And I try not to fill my mind with them from the news, because I become rather obsessed when I do (obviously, as evidenced by the dog nightmares!).
Thanks you for sharing your thoughts with this poem, Laura. It’s touching. I like how the ending recognizes the mourning and grieving and the slow and difficult process of moving forward.
Thanks, Penny
Thanks you for sharing your thoughts with this poem, Laura. It’s touching. I like how the ending recognizes the mourning and grieving and the slow and difficult process of moving forward.
Thanks, Penny
Thanks for linking to your Star Tribune article. My favorite part: “loud, messy, joyous celebration”!
Thanks, Monica:>)
Thanks for linking to your Star Tribune article. My favorite part: “loud, messy, joyous celebration”!
Thanks, Monica:>)