As I Look into Myself like a Window

[Baywriter]

As I Look into Myself like a Window


down make-believe dunes,
black worms of seaweed strangled and strewn
on the bank, curling up dead between my toes
all muddy with tiny shells and moist sand.

What home is this? my father says, invisible
and loud from behind. I am trying to understand
why I live beneath the sun stretching out of bed
to burn my skin – in ferocious light.

Don’t ask me to know my body
in any other light than ferocious light.
I can’t recognize myself without it. I’ve tried –
when I’m down the dune and see no shadow
to dissect, to mine through bare-handed piece by piece

for what will fall out of me –
It’s that emptiness that gets me, he spits,
grabbing my shoulder with one hand, pointing into the vastness
with the other, folds of skin in his fingers, folds of sea,
both unsure, barely there like bone lines.

My father never shows his face in this place,
just his hands, thick and strong and mysterious,
but people believe them.

[Balustrade]

There are many thoughts that course into the reader's head - nay, mine, as I read your words. There are many avenues for comment that open up vast and long in front of me, whether on a literary or a personal/societal front. I shall abstain from trekking on these roads for fear of sparking controversies.

However, I shall beg to be given permission to say one thing, based on my follow-up of your writes and comments: I am certain you and your significant other will be everything to your two sons that your parent(s) never were to you. As such, your boys are blessed.

[dwells]

Great Lakes perhaps for a setting in Dunes State Park - one of my favorite memories of life in Indiana. Enjoyed the bare bones lines comparison, or at least my interp. on this Bay. And the hands of the father almost spiritual - but perhaps punitive too, cheers and a deep one.

[JASON]

Bayleigh i'll try but will probably miss the bus...
a window,one looks through and sees depth as opposed to a mirror which can only reflect.
The make believe dunes set the scene for your missing home - Florida.
The natural and metaphorical surrounds in the first stanza fall short
of your childhood - in Florida.The question in the 2nd stanza continues this theme...
The absence of a father either by death or disinterest seems to have a profound
effect on your life.Don't understand your ending at all but that is my 10 cents worth...

[moe]

Sounds pretty bleak to me, the scene which you describe here. I never did care for the beach or the seashore. Now the sea... That's a whole 'nother ballgame. The "father figure " in this piece sounds a whole lot like a god figure to me.

[everhopeful]

Bayleigh, this is the kind of poem which makes me wish I didn't have an 'in' to it from outside of the poem itself, because I only want to do justice to the poem itself in my comment. Yet 'cold' reading something with such a mix of vulnerability and brutality isn't easy; first, the vulnerability aches - who could live under such scrutiny, to the point where they're so used to it that they lose the ability to cast a shadow over the parts which warrant it? This kind of 'illumination' only seems to bring focus to the flaws and burns out the good. Then the brutality - the speaker's father only has two lines in this, but you make them count like a novel's worth. The phrasing 'he spits' does so much work for you here, it's so hard-hitting when coupled with the theme of the poem as a whole, especially how you made this beach seem so ugly in the opening, which isn't an easy task in such a short space.
The ending is very clever, especially in an OM, at keeping the extended metaphor cohesive and flushed out (I may have mentioned an admiration for that in previous posts of yours, I know!). Sometimes out of sight isn't out of mind when a person or experience leaves such a deep channel in your psyche, and it seems like the father's hands have shaped the speaker to the point where his presence isn't a necessity.
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant work.

[rupertpupkin]

Blew me away as usual.

[domvanday]

By the end I felt strangled, not poetically, this is a virtual masterpiece let me say that right off, but by the sheer weight of the metaphor and how it is expressed and used. It felt to me as if nothing could ever be done to prove oneself. As if the writer was looking for support, for direction, maybe for acceptance, and yet it never came from the one individual who it was needed from. I loved the title too, the introspective nature of it reflects beautifully the angst and insecurity of the whole piece, it is maybe a sudden realisation that one does not hide their emotions that well....I know the feeling! A stunning piece of modern day poetry.

[damaso]

As I Look into Myself like a Window


down make-believe dunes,
black worms of seaweed strangled and strewn
on the bank, curling up dead between my toes
all muddy with tiny shells and moist sand.

What home is this? my father says, invisible
and loud from behind. I am trying to understand
why I live beneath the sun stretching out of bed
to burn my skin – in ferocious light.

Don’t ask me to know my body
in any other light than ferocious light.
I can’t recognize myself without it. I’ve tried –
when I’m down the dune and see no shadow
to dissect, to mine through bare-handed piece by piece

for what will fall out of me –
It’s that emptiness that gets me, he spits,
grabbing my shoulder with one hand, pointing into the vastness
with the other, folds of skin in his fingers, folds of sea,
both unsure, barely there like bone lines.

My father never shows his face in this place,
just his hands, thick and strong and mysterious,
but people believe them.

Man this is so surreal! Favorite stanza is the second to last, what a masterful write! It really felt like the poem was folding back in on itself!!!! and the freshness of a line like the light is ferocious, within its illimunations--Gah I loved the s----- out of this thank you so much for sharing

[Mike6]

Aw man Bay, this is brutal. You have a nack for conjuring up powerful emotions in the reader as shown by the previous comments. It's a superpower you possess and I love it. There's not much poetry out there that can really make me squirm in my seat, but your work does that to me. It makes me feel. And I think good poetry is supposed to do that. The metaphor here is sublime, the images here are sublime. This is what real concrete poetry look s like. Thanks for sharing!

[potentialpoet]

Another poem with obscure meaning, but very meaningfully expressed. And I should add that it is expressed with great conviction, which gives it a terrific emotional punch. I see existential leanings here, but also a certain nihilism. Either way, meaning, as in 'What does all this amount to?' is strongly conveyed.

[MusicMyLife]

Wow oh wow. No wonder this has been spotlighted. The imagery created is supreme. Well done!!!!

[Josie]

Lots of raw emotion coupled with character and landscape details that I found riveting, illustrates the stand out quality of this poem. Congratulations on the spotlight. Dad with his 'thick, strong, and mysterious hands', while at the same time his grip was 'unsure, barely there like bone lines'.
Take the line, 'It's that emptiness that gets me, he spits,..." I tried reading it with the voices of men I know. and it can take on so many meanings.
Describing the beach scene with ' black worms of seaweed strangled and strewn' did not make the scene inviting to visit.
The father asking, ''What home is this?' made me think he did not understand N very well if this is the way N chose to describe the beach. He seemed to be looking for clues, but the vast emptiness of the ocean hid what he was seeking. And Narrator could not see his face.
The light described as ferocious, makes the reader think that the truth is better left hidden, as though light would cause unbearable pain.
I am on the outside, looking in, and I wanted to know more. Thank you for sharing.

[tangerinepie]

Hi Bay..not going to write a book here, because the essentials have all been covered before me, but this digs brutally into a wounded psyche that astounds the reader.The father figure someone very domineering and controlling obviously.This made me think of parenting a great deal and it is a common thing to hear how children grow up stifled and afraid due to oppressive parenting..Great use of metaphor here and an exceptional spotlight selection..Tangie..