Discovering Resilience

[Suzanne]

Discovering Resilience

It is a new thing to allow myself
to simply rest, to think, to gaze,
occasionally, out my window
at the tree with its missing limb.

The branch was low on its trunk
but too high to reach without a ladder.
It held a bird feeder until its accident,
zebra colored sunflower seeds
always scattered beneath, yellow
and blue tits hopping about.

It disappeared one day while I was at work,
ripped off in a tractor incident,
no one acknowledged it had happened,
just a casualty, I suppose- an urgent trench
was being dug around the house
to prevent further flooding, a crooked branch
hardly takes precedence in a crisis.

When I noticed it was missing, I was
instantly reminded of a boy
that had both of his arms ripped off
in a tractor incident. At sixteen,
he was clever enough to run back to the house
and sit in the bathtub until help arrived.
The article was written to celebrate
that not only had he survived,
but both arms had been reattached.
It is amazing what people can live through.

I miss that gnarly limb and its handmade feeder,
remember the moon
highlighting its curved beauty,
the snow hat it wore now and then
as it offered food around the clock.

I've never mentioned my sense of loss
over it's removal, it seemed trivial
until today, when I looked out at the changing leaves
and remembered the birds.





.



.

[AlanReynolds]

To me, this one works against itself, reading a bit like a prose report. It seems to need pruning, removing for example 'For a birch' and 'I suppose' and 'when I noticed'.

I'm not quite sure why sitting in the tub saved the boy's arms nor why including that fact helps the poem.

It may well be just me, but I'm not sure what the central story is here. A bit of pruning can help?

[Suzanne]

Thank you for the time, Alan.
I will give some thought to any "extra" words.

I think you've missed my point though.
This is the mystery of communication sometimes.
The title plays a big role in the message of the poem.

Thank you,
Suzanne

[Suzanne]

And so I changed it.

Hmmm... ?
Suzanne

[AlanReynolds]

Good afternoon Suzanne,

Nice pruning

To me, the poem is much better now and the title complements it nicely.

[SteveR]

Suzanne,

A poem that resonated with me. I very much like how you contrasted the "limbs."
Your first and last stanzas are like bookends to me, and when viewed through the lens of the title, cause me to think that, what you are talking about is clearly resilience over something much greater than the loss of a limb holding a bird feeder. That you used an example of a young man losing his limbs--no doubt nearly losing his life--made we wonder what the deepest loss was. That it is "new thing to allow myself to simply rest, to think, to gaze" implies to me that resilience has been discovered.


S1
It is a new thing to allow myself
to simply rest, to think, to gaze,
occasionally, out my window
at the tree with its missing limb.

S2
I've never mentioned my sense of loss
over it's removal, it seemed trivial
until today, when I looked out at the changing leaves
and remembered the birds.

I very much liked this. Powerful poem.

Steve

[Suzanne]

I am glad i found a seemingly better title, thank you for coming back, Alan.

Thanks Stever, i am glad you picked up on the N's coming through something where resilience was needed.
Thanks for your thoughts.

Warmly,
Suzanne

[Antcliff]

I liked the rather relaxed tone of this, Suzanne. And the addition of the story of loss of limbs is a striking addition/continuation of the initial far more low key limb story. I think that works very well. The joining of the two is a striking combination.

[Suzanne]

Thank you, Seth. Those are encouraging words. I think I'm on a roll. X
Suzanne