Introspection -- Looking Inward
Poetry Friday
Beloveds,
Introspection is an intro to ourselves. Who are we exactly? How do we make sense of our behaviors, thoughts, and feelings that can be so diverse in this one body we have! We can feel joy or sadness and even though these are different in expressions, each feeling, each thought, gives us a window to who we are at any given time.
I invite you to read these short poems and let them lead you to whatever it is saying to you in the moment. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer is one of my favorite poets because her poems slip into the cracks we all have and she shares deeply in those moments of her introspection. I hope you go there with her to look inside yourself and savor the meaning it can bring for you.
Blessings,
Jace
How Things Change
Useless the trail
I thought would take me back—
the crumbs are still there
but I no longer believe
in going back
by Rosemerry Wahola TrommerOne More Layer
the more I wear this story
of myself, the more
it grows thin, ravels,
a sweater filled with holes—
I fall through them
by Rosemerry Wahola TrommerRevelation in the Sheriff’s Office while Filling Out Forms for Work
Just when I think
I am perfectly lost
I have to get
my fingerprints taken,
proof that not only am I
still here, but I am
indentified, classified, filed away,
and able to located.
No matter how many layers
of stories I have shed,
how many lifetimes
I think I have left behind,
no matter how many
shells of myself I have broken through,
no matter how much
I might like to think
I have changed
I am marked by the same
ten whorls. Oh be humble,
woman, and make way
for the light
to move in.
by Rosemerry Wahola TrommerAnd don’t forget to laugh at yourself. Introspection doesn’t have to be all serious. Self reflection can be funny and still tell you a lot about yourself.
Altar Ego
Because I hate to make msitakes,
today I practice messsing up.
Spell check tries to correct me,but
I thwart it, I INsist on my errirs,
retype what is right till its wrong.
It hurts a littel. And I like it,
that it hurts. a little. SEee;
I say to my inner prefectionist,
it’s kinda fun to fook up,
and soon Im laughing in the dark,
itching to stumble out teh door
and run passed the same choices I
’ve always made, gigling
with this holy wreckless woman,
I liek her, I decid, as we blunder into the night.
by Rosemerry Wahola Trommer