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56 hours into the week

by Ava Blu

i was born dead
not breathing
for maybe 2 or 3 minutes

clinically not worth breathing life back in to

but they did



and i imagine now there is a regret of choice
a matter of second-guessing,
sidewalk talking
with your shirt un-tucked
and your collar around your ears

we’ve exchanged looks before,
through the emails
through the phone calls
and vintage letters with two dollar stamps

they were from my grandmother’s collection,
an old box of cigars full of the things she adored

she was clinically dead before they ever found her
and she called out for me
she called out

there was moss on the trees when she died
and it seemed to eat the branches,
to smile implosively as it swallowed the leaves
and i imagine she saw this
and screamed
and fought with the rails on the bed to get up and save the trees

it was fifty-six hours into the week before they found her
it was afternoon or dawn
somewhere
but it was night around me when i was told

i want to look up and tell you i see her
that i see her in the sky
a smile in the clouds
i want to tell you it was worth breathing
it was worth all efforts
and i really want to believe in god
but i haven’t found anything new yet
and nothing is coming around the corner
and nothing is sleeping beside me that i cannot live without
and nothing is waiting in the backseat of my car

and nothing is going to happen again.

01/27/2010

Posted on 01/27/2010
Copyright © 2024 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 01/27/10 at 03:09 PM

The journey from that first line to last has to be one of your most intense, strangest, most haunting and certainly most beautiful journeys I can ever recall you taking us on. There is so much history, storytelling and poetic power punching through every line and image throughout. Few can blend memories, despair and even hope as well you as you do here. That fourth to last stanza is quite overwhelming.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/27/10 at 06:57 PM

I am with Gabriel -while I always find your work to be insightful and powerful, this is full of keen introspection and some really poignant parts of memory and metaphor and you just wove together an incredibly complex combination of living, dying, the tangible and the intangible, and the qualm of faith and hope versus actuality. Simply, unutterably, amazing.

Posted by Joe Cramer on 01/27/10 at 09:29 PM

... brilliant... my vote for POTD!!!

Posted by George Hoerner on 01/27/10 at 10:11 PM

Yes a very intense piece Ava. You must have been very close to your grandmother.

Posted by Amie Golda on 01/28/10 at 02:36 AM

Wonderful storytelling, from start to finish. I like how you introduce it with a prologue and ho the epilogue brings that connection to the whole story. Great write.

Posted by Michael Smith on 01/28/10 at 04:24 AM

Contrasting your opportunity for second-life with your grandmother's departure has quite the effect. It really speaks of your literary maturity. Because your protagonist spoke of their belief in God, I feel compelled to paraphrase and transmogrify something C.S. Lewis once said: "I believe in God as I believe that the sun has risen. Not necessarily because I see it, but because by way of it I can see everything else." Additionally, C.S. Lewis's recorded recollection of the moment he acquired his belief is an interesting read (mind you I often like to interchange "God" and "The Universe"). I mention this because the common sentiment expressed in the poem of how people seem to be waiting for "anything new," or some proof of God's existence suggests an observance of a direct nature, where, perhaps acquisition of the indirect might be more effective. Has anything ever been harder to see the harder you look at it? Yup, I unloaded all this philosophical and spiritual bull because everyone above me did a great job accurately praising you for your inherent talent. Thank you very much, Ava, for sharing this very mature piece.

Posted by Julie Adams on 01/29/10 at 10:37 AM

it is these slices of life that really breathe through a poem, and i can feel the oxygen flowing the the veins of each stanza...how your imagery and story feed the mind, body, and soul...I can live in the details, truly remarkable...this poem feels like heavy exhale...kudos fine poet, I adore your work, peace, jewels

Posted by Uriel Tovar on 06/05/13 at 03:07 PM

really liked the story in this

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