A Picture of Me in Words…

This was written in 1988 when I was pregnant with Alex. It is quite long, but someone was wondering what a longer poem would be like, so bear with me.

 

Just Me

 

I am the chronicler of my own soul

The shadow of the past the glimmer of the future.

The creature present at this moment.

 

I am the laughter of a child surprised by a

New found discovery. The tears of disillusionment

And hurt also describe me.

 

I am a toy shiny new, picked up and examined with

Amused curiosity. Played with, used until the

Glamour fades and I am tossed aside. A relic

Of happiness and fulfilled longings. Found in

The attic among old photos. I am a half remembered

Moment.

 

I know pain for scrapped knees and bloodied lips I have

Had a plenty. Scars I can point to and feel

The moment of their infliction. Mended bones

And old strained muscles sometimes call out with

New definition.

 

I know heartbreak for it has sat upon me like a

Thousand pound weight often. I have been

Smashed by it and found it hard to crawl

From under the dark pall.

 

I know elation for I have loved and been beloved

I have lain with warm arms around me. I

Have frolicked in sunshine under clear skies.
I have coasted in a boat on the Tennessee River

Half giddy with rum and awareness of my bare

Body watched by my love.

 

I hear the hum of traffic on the highway just

A little way beyond my window and I am

Hard-pressed to ignore the call to travel.

Lured to drive and explore far beyond the places I

Have been as yet.

 

I hear the washer spurting water and am reminded

Of my duties. To hearth and home I am bound

As well as to my family. This is joy and also

Responsibility.

 

I hear the quiet of the house with me here alone and

Relish the moment. The future will less solitude

Afford for I carry the burden of an unborn child.

Soon bottles will clatter and whines will be common

As Springtime breezes be.

 

I see the ground reappearing where only days ago

Was a blanket of clean white snow. Beauty only

Lasts a short space in time replaced by different

Scenery or only a change of the same.

 

I see the swell of my body as it changes with

My baby’s growth. It amazes me and too reminds

Me that time passes always changing. I am

In awe of God’s miracles and His bountifulness.

Each person is a touch from His majesty. How

Varied He must be.

 

I see a squirrel capering in a tree outside and

Am the wind delighting in stroking through

Soft fur. Teasing the little sport upward and

Then into it’s warm nest.

 

The brightness of the city lights

People scurrying from building to building

Cars bustling from portal to portal

All these are reflected in my eyes.

 

Utterings that come from my lips

Are spoken in the tongue of all speech

I have heard in passing. I am a mimic

Of the dialects I have witnessed

 

A clutter of papers collected in a notebook

Is the essence of my thought

The words pushed from a pen are my labor

These validate my existence.

 

Without I had written about a thing it would

Not be touched with my vision to your

Experience. Through reading my words you

Learn from my soul. I become a part of

You and likewise you of me.

 

I rode once upon a yellow canvas floating

Tensely through rock crammed waters

Of the Chattahoochee River. Bathing in

The chilled fast moving currents was

Exhilaration epitomized. The rapids

Swashling song was new music to my

Ears. Ah, grand the drifting.

 

Sitting in a high place on a wedding day

I was aware of joy intense as the

Wind whipping my skirt. Pleasure was

The touch of my beloved’s hand in mine.

 

Skiing on the twisting river in April with

Wind plaiting my hair in the sunshine.

Marveling at the mountains shaped like

Breakers rising on the beach as I glide

Past throwing up a shower of sparkling

Spray. Slaloming with no sense of ever

Tiring, only reveling in the work of

Muscles.

 

Often a visitor to the library, books are my

Friends. When I need excitement it

Is within the covers I find it. Books

Don’t argue or demand so our relationship

Is sound.

 

Dreamer, observer, examiner, these all are embodied

In me. An adventurer to far worlds or just

Outside exploring the yard, a dancer amid the

Grass. All this and more am I.

 

Darkness also within recesses deep does lurk. Madness,

Even, for I have been behind locked doors with

The men and women in white coats. The screams

Of the demented are known to me. Did I not

See things that induce madness? However, sanity

Prevailed, although at times craziness seems

Only one shadow foot step away.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

I have been having intermittent computer problems so excuse me for not posting earlier.

 

Smiles,

Jo Ann