Into the Woods
allow me to introduce myself
we carry waterproof matches
a small pan
knife and compass
tent for two
enough food for five days
and in my trembling hands
a treasure map:
this discolored photograph
with edges torn by hands I never laid eyes on
with its soft gray pencil on its aged back --
the loops and slants that reveal
your name
the date of your birth
the date of your death
*
this eerie clue is all there is of you
bequeathed to me after your only daughter
my mother
passed
*
according to a properly folded note
on stationary I know to be Mother's
you lie
beneath a small flat patch of once unspoiled Virginia soil
two day’s hike beyond the Shenandoah
bearing west of the knotty pines
a country mile northeast of the centurion red oaks
*
we make camp for the night
grateful for dry weather
I watch my husband sleeping
and count my lucky stars
I never knew your handsome face
your voice
your charming skirt-chasing ways
your propensity for violence
toward my grandmother
I never knew about the child you struck from her womb
the son never to be my uncle
I never knew anything about you
the secreted truths and half-truths of your life
or that you caused your own death
*
until the reading of Mother’s will
I never knew my grandfather wasn’t
--no one wanted me to know--
but the facts found me
waiting for something
I knew nothing of
*
my husband and I
have traversed tougher terrain
but I find myself struggling to track
he leads
fifteen paces ahead
and focused
*
I imagine he is nothing like you
am I?
*
we must be getting close now
he’s close
to finding you
he’s considerate that way
doing right by me
putting my needs first
understanding what I can’t begin to
*
he waits
patiently
until I can catch up
catch my breath
*
softly I squeeze his hand
in gratitude
and gentle dismissal
*
this I must do alone
*
I fall to my knees
bend to brush away the weeds
trace the loops and slants that spell your name
place wildflowers beside the cross you bear
and despite myself
I weep
as I introduce myself
***
Copyright © 11/18/2014 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
***
Music by Brian Munson | Spoken word recited by Christy Munson
____________________________
Author's Note: This poem was written as a free style piece and later recorded as spoken word. The music was created using an online music app and samples. The embedded link connects you with my one and only spoken word album: exposure. My husband and I might make the time to properly edit it one day, but in the meantime, we hope you enjoy it.
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Heartfelt and relatable
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Comments (3)
I really like the flowing thoughts without punctuation, and “softly I squeeze his hand in gratitude and gentle dismissal” is such a brilliant line. Some wonderful imagery in here too. This is powerfully personal, and I loved reading it Christy. It’s such a complex feeling, and you show it to the reader so well.
This is so gentle and loving and emotional- the contrast to your husband and that question "am I?" is so relatable. I often worry about where the legacy of my violent grandfather lives in me. Beautiful work.
This started off so gently that I was completely wrong footed by the revelation of violence. Wow. Your writing is superb. … side note: I love Shenandoah. Old Rag was a challenge as I’m a bit of a wimp when it comes to heights.