If I Die With A Poem In My Mouth

 

 

"If I Die With A Poem In My Mouth"

If I die with half a poem in my mouth
kiss it out and let it have its say

draw it out as if cross-breathing,
to give that stuck womb-wish
a way to sigh

give it a name, hold it up to the sky,
let it be blessed

pass it around and let its relatives hold it,
speak of how it looks like its siblings,
its mother

©Carol Desjarlais 2011

I am a poet.  I was a prolific Canadian poet.  Grief took hold of my ability to dig deeply enough to come up with metaphors, similes, and personifications to create word images.  I crave going to that space and place where poetry comes as fast as I can type it.  Once in a blue moon, a poem begins to form, but it is not often.  My talent for writing poetry is a craving, yet, I still, after 6 years, cannot go there.  My grief was unspeakable.  My reactions to grief were not pleasant, to say the least.  I not only lost my soulmate, I lost many aspects of my personality, my psyche and much of what I worked hard to develop.  I may not have enough of life left to retrieve it all again.  I have turned to art journaling, and art as a way to reach that place of holiness, peace, prayer, and personal meditation.  Art journaling digs deep into the soul.  It does not even need words to say its meaning.  Perhaps that is enough to get those deepest feelings out.

As I do a page, whether it is a whimsical portrait, or not, there is a conversation going on in my head.  It is then that I sort things out that I may not have had time or the inclination to do while reality is there staring me in my face. 

I typically leave an area or the back of the prior page for any writing that I might do, later.  I do not, typically, show what I write.  I find I do not need to, because I can look at a painting or page, and know exactly what I was thinking about.  Blogging along with each painting, is a way for me to put down the theme of my thoughts to, perhaps, empower or inspire others to give art journaling a try.

You know how a piece of clothing, a certain kind of flower, a scent can evoke memory(ies)?  A painting I have done, whether art journal or canvas, holds that same kind of sacred power. 

By thought-dumping on to paper, or any other substrate, keeps me in the present rather than precious time wasted dragging my heart through the dredges of yesteryear. 

Are you an art journalist?  Do you have some pages to share to inspire us?

 

©Carol Desjarlais 3.14.22

 

This portrait began with an old, dailed, portrait I did.  It was wayyyy to far off the mathematics of face.  I had put a wash over it and ruined it, so I left it for another day.  A few tweaks and it was good to go.