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The Difference
by Richard PaezShe sits, Indian-style,
in an old room with new carpeting
undecorated, except for thick, blue
curtains, hanging still
drawn incompletely, allowing
just enough space for me to watch her
through the window as she sits
pregnant belly nestled
between her knees, foreshadowing
the child to come
who will sit looking up at her,
tell her: there are still
bits of you
in my teeth
my child in hunger
if his in blood.
She remembers him climbing on top of her,
mumbling love, his hand, fingers outstretched,
supporting his weight, sinking so deep
into the pillow she imagined he could feel
the bedsprings through its mass, feel the coils
cut into his palm,
her face turned, not away from him;
towards his hand, white with pressure
like minewhite
like the doctor's apron, not the bloody mess
she imagined. She sits with the peacefulness
of the doctor as he cleaned her,
four years today underneath
the perfect symmetry of acoustic ceiling tile,
the bittersweet Oreo cookies in recovery,
the girl sobbing next to her, whose name
she never knew, forever her sister
in the shared irony that in this sterile room
they were expected to recover
what could never be recovered,
the shared future of rumpled bed sheets,
jumbled till mottled and continuous
across remembered beds, the infinite
possibilities of empty rooms, like this one,
undecorated except for the thick, blue curtains,
hanging just as they did in the room we shared,
when I climbed on top of her, mumbling love,
my hand supporting my weight, fingers
outstretched, giving her a gift she couldn't keep. 04/21/2005 Author's Note: It is very important to note that "giving" and "gift" are the wrong words in the last line. I need to change it but can't right now. The speaker in this poem would not think of the pregnancy between himself and the woman in the poem as a "gift" that he "gave" her--I would like this world a lot better if no man in his position would think in such a sexist, male-primary, female-secondary way. I intend on changing this line when I can.
Posted on 04/21/2005
Copyright © 2024 Richard Paez
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 04/21/05 at 08:29 PM Richard, this is a powerful poem, thick with emotions that are better left unnamed. If I understand the context correctly, it's something I've experienced. Excellent work, my friend!
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Bradd Howard on 04/21/05 at 09:22 PM This was extremely powerful! Such great imagery truly evoked emotions... would love to read the revised ending when it is complete. |
| Posted by Beth K Hannah on 04/23/05 at 03:33 PM so much exists in your words |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 05/06/05 at 04:33 PM An emotional and FEELING poem, full of intense images and heartbreak, as though the poet has left pieces of his along the way as he wrote. I do see two separate stories here, two different times, two men, one woman, two different conceptions, "my child in hunger if his in blood" - there is a present and a past portrayed here, all a projection of the subject's thought process, the spirit in pain, the mind consoling and repenting, "giving her a gift she couldn't keep" - I see a missed opportunity, and a present regret, a child long gone, and a child born within a memory relived. There is so much here, so much depth and so much symbolism. The blues hanging down like a reminder of baby-rooms to be painted, tests turned positive and then stilled, "thick, blue curtains, hanging still drawn incompletely" - 'still' and 'incomplete' - this is not a comforting image by any means but a projection of "the infinite possibilities of empty rooms...sterile room they were expected to recover what could never be recovered" - this is a personal poem, very intimate for the writer. What is the difference between the past which is dead and the present that is being born every moment to moment? What is the difference between what could have been and what is not? The difference is negligeable if one remembers to live in the present...the difference is that death does not always mean rebirth...the difference that past is not what present IS. Bring us back to the present Richard...show us the difference...show us that life belongs to the living, and that no regret ever managed to regain its past. That's what I saw. This piece of yours is incredibly moving and powerful.
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