The Window

[Baywriter]

*response on Brittany Maynard

The Window

I woke up in the middle of a sunrise
the morning after she died of her cancer.
The orange light, muffled by fog or breath,
maybe the last of hers, veined through the window.
It rained minutes before, the streaks remained,
and for a moment it felt like I was looking
into an x-ray. It was hazy and strange.
It was the kind of morning you don’t have
more than once. I traced the body in the glass,
a translucent version of myself, and I lit up
from inside, the sunbeams fragmented,
ricocheted to my chest, stomach, head, then all
I could do was cover them with my hands,
which of course lit up as well. It’s a kind of hell
to witness yourself as the body, or to look
through the mouth of a window and see a mirror,
which reminds you of a clock, which reminds you
of learning to tell time with your sister, telling her
if you stop the hands, you start the infinity.
She always believed it, but never believed in death.
It’s going to happen if it happens in bed,
if it happens in an unfamiliar room with burning.
With your hand flat over your heart
or with it stabbing into the empty night
to kill it before it’s killed. It’s not gentle,
no, it is certain. I am looking right at it.

[Mike6]

Bay, I just wanna say I saw how this poem evolved and I'm really liking the end result. I like how you squished it all together. It feels more urgent that way, where structure immitates content. The story that inspired this is a compelling one from what I gathered from you and it really translates well into this poem, however I don't think you need the story to appreciate the poem as it can stand alone. The imagery is beautiful yet deep engraved w/ emotive power. Wonderful work, as always.

[ladylynnmary]

Dearest Bay, your writing never fails to amaze me and this piece held my attention from start to end. Another
masterpiece in my opinion. Great work my friend!

Much Love,
Lynn

[Darkness]

There are things we may see only once simply because once we do, we never actually stop seeing them. No matter what we do or where we go, they are always there. No matter how tight we shut our eyes, no matter how hard we try to focus on something else, they are always with us... maybe even a part of us. They say "the story's in the telling." You tell of this well.

[JASON]

so much to admire in this poem:
-'her cancer' the personalisation of the disease makes it all more intimate.
-instead of looking through a window and having an external view,
the whole poem focusses on the reflective,introspective view
the speaker gets from the window...the x-ray analogy,particularly effective.
-'if you stop the hands,you start the infinity' - brilliant.
WELL DONE.

[candlewitch]

dear Bay,

after reading this piece, I also read through your comments. unlike those members...I haven't the words to express the sorrow this triggered in me. most excellent!

always, Cat

[David Wayne]

The first four lines of this are overwhelming and tracing the outline is such a good image of an x-ray.
This is a sad poem that carries the voice well throughout,was glad to see you not go into a rant at the end.


It’s going to happen if it happens in bed,
if it happens in an unfamiliar room with burning.
With your hand flat over your heart
or with it stabbing into the empty night
to kill it before it’s killed. It’s not gentle,
no, it is certain. I am looking right at it.

This ending is so tragic that It puts the reader on the spot to try and collect and sort out their own feelings about life and death. Well penned poetry.


David

[win-der-mere]

To analyze such a profound poem is way above me, but obviously masterful hands wove it to perfection.

[Dana Renee]

Baywriter, I've been a fan of yours for awhile. You always have such a striking way of writing that I admire. This is no exception. Beautiful, heartbreaking write. Very much agree with David's take as well.

[everhopeful]

I first looked at this one last night and had to google the person referenced, there's something about her story which is deeply tragic, obviously, but strangely inspiring to me. Someone facing the unconquerable and meeting it head on.
Your poem has that quality about it too, it's deeply emotive and filled with the sense of loss, yet somehow you've conveyed something inspiring, a fleeting moment of light during utter darkness. I sense that the speaker, like many, finds herself looking inwards and asking questions; questions of herself, questions of life itself. There's something about the imagery in this which feels delicate and intimate, humbled even, yet for all of the delightful poetic technique you have also managed to make this feel very natural and softly spoken towards the reader.
Beautifully written, as always.

[things_i_wrote]

oweee this part taling about seeing yourself in the window and reminisce in scenes is like a transparent body
is just evocative and tempting u know
i like the drawing of the story with the compromise sadness nudge

cheers..TIW

[Chelle]

I had to go and find this one to spotlight it but I just wanted to say as always, very well written B. It keeps your attention from beginning to end and you go through so many emotions. The grief, then the sorrow, then the wonder of something else, before the end? Anyway, thanks for posting it and hopefully everyone else enjoys it too.

[Sylvierue]

I remember reading about this story, and feeling torn by it. I still don't know how I feel, and I suppose that's indicative of how real life makes us feel. Not only is the moment the moment, it is also a culmination of all the moments that came before it, and how we met them.

I really appreciate your approach to this. The way time and our reflection affects us, and how our childhood lessons and experiences shape the way we encounter everything as adults. The poem, while responding to the death of a specific person, seems to respond also to a previous loss, and how the decision to die is never merely a personal one, but one which impacts all touched by the person who's gone.

I like the way your poem seems a conversation with someone gone, even an effort to stop them from going on, or a way of trying to call them back. It's extremely moving, and the play with time and light speaks to the more elemental side of us, the side we don't acknowledge or fully recognize on a daily basis.

I was moved by this, genuinely. Well-deserved spotlight.

[Josie]

I liked the way you woke up in the middle of a sunrise recalling Brittany's death. I think there is a hint of a connection between the sky or a part of the outside world and the loss of someone who has made an impact into your life.. It becomes an image that often appears when you recall that person. For me, when President Kennedy died the sky was filled with clouds that reminded me of a washboard and it was icicles hanging from my car when my mother died. I suppose it is my way to reach for more understanding, as though the outside world is trying to communicate with me.

Brittany's tragic event was troubling to me at the time. I remember thinking about what a full life she had before she learned of her cancer. It did not stop her from wanting to end her days. I think that was what made her story so sad. I liked your words, 'It's not gentle,' . It reminded me of 'gentle' in the villanelle by Dylan Thomas called ' Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night'.

This biblical verse, 1 Corinthians 13:12 -For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known., was triggered by your experience with the window.
There is so much more I could say, but I want to congratulate you for your TPS Spotlight recognition.
Josie

[Jovel320]

This is a very personal write with grit and sensitivity known only to those who miss loved ones now departed. How small and lacking power we feel at those times. This knowledge comes through in this piece . Thanks for sharing this with the outside world!!
Jovel

[Ladywildalice]

Congratulations on the Spotlight. This is piercing, visceral and searing, yet it is so filled with grace. Death is not beautiful. It is tremendously sad, painful in many ways, sometimes frightening, sometimes maddening, but never, generally, welcomed. I think it is because we do not KNOW for absolute certainty, without a shadow of a doubt, EXACTLY what will come next. We have our beliefs, our faiths, our "pretty sures". This really is beautiful .