The past two weeks have been spent writing my face off. I wanted to share a piece I am particularly proud of, but first the back story of this piece.
It all started with this blog post that I wrote on Exploded Moments for a prompt from The Red Dress Club (before I was part of the leadership) called a day at the beach. I liked it and got lots of good feedback, but I felt like it wasn’t quite right and I wanted to turn it into a poem.
I wrote a new draft of it in poem form and brought it to my writing group. They did NOT hold back. In fact, I was the last to go for the day, and on my drive home I wanted to punch a few of the in the mouth. I asked Cort to please pick up Eddie and I went straight home to work on the piece because I was so crabby.
They totally misinterpreted what I was trying to say.
I realized, though, that that was my problem as the writer. Writers don’t follow their work out into the world explaining what they meant. The work has to stand on it’s own.
So I rewrote.
And took it back.
There were still issues, but this time instead of grumbling, I listened more closely to what my group said.
Today I read this for them. I think I nailed it, but you tell me.
*************
Ashes
I didn’t belong there. Yet
I did.
I was family too. But
so new.
I don’t remember who drove the boat.
(does it matter? It wasn’t him.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.)
Three siblings sat on the bow of the fifty foot Sea Ray:
the last ride with Pops.
a widow clutched a metal box.
a pastor held his robes against the breeze.
and I
sat alone
in a small corner
with the extra line and hooks
apart.
The boat—set in a low idle—
calmly made its way
through
the
still waters of the channel to
the Big Lake
and I
searched the pier for
empathy.
*************
This is the picture that originally jogged my memory and inspired the poem…
I do have more pieces from the past two weeks, but I am still working on them to send away in my portfolio.
What do you think of this one? Does it seem the two weeks was worth it?