Hello!
Welcome to the first poetry installment of Christina Shouts into the Void. I’ll be making this first one available for free, but if you’d like to receive a new poem and prompt in your email every week, you can subscribe for $5 a month. If you’re already a paying subscriber, you’ll get an extra poem in your inbox tomorrow!
I’ll start by giving you some context and commentary for the poem. If you’d prefer to read the poem first and the commentary second, scroll on down!
There are two threads of inspiration I can trace for this poem. The first is the poem that it takes after, “Can You Repeat the Question?” by Micah Bournes. If you haven’t read Micah’s new book, Here Comes This Dreamer, you’re missing out.
In “Can You Repeat the Question?” Micah lists the things he is afraid of, with varying degrees of emotional vulnerability. This poem really stuck with me, because I felt like I was getting to watch Micah confess something to himself, or at least articulate truths that he had known but was laying out on the table for the first time. The poem feels very honest and intimate, which is a goal I’m always trying to get to in my own writing. Micah gave me a list of prompts that he created from the poems in his book, and the prompt that corresponded to this poem was, “Write a list of at least 12 things you’re afraid of, they can be simple fears like spiders or heights as well as more complex emotional or philosophical fears like your life not having significance or never finding a partner etc.”
The second thread is the process of writing my own collection of poetry. Over the past few years, poetry has been a very social activity for me. In fact, pre-pandemic, most of my social life revolved around attending readings, open mics, book release parties, and writing workshops. Being in community with other poets is something I really cherish. We’re still doing our best to stay connected and continue sharing our work with each other over Zoom, but of course it isn’t the same.
I spend a lot more time alone now than I used to. In some ways, that’s probably a very positive thing for my writing. I’ve been thinking about how being so much more isolated has affected my creative work, along with my relationships with memory and reality. More and more of the poems I’m writing speak to and examine those relationships, an unexpected and mildly terrifying theme in my current manuscript.
I can’t help but wonder if this time is bringing me closer to my truest authentic self, or farther from it. The answer is probably both. Either way, the first draft of this poem kind of hurt my feelings.
Isolation Poem
after Micah Bournes
I’m afraid of living off of memory alone.
I used to write poems about people I loved
and new places I went to, but now
all I do is try to raise the dead.
To dredge up something within me
that is worth resurrecting.
All I have are the things I remember
and I only have the things I remember
the way I remember them.
I’m afraid I’m just watching kaleidoscope dancers
through tinted sunglasses.
I’m afraid I’m cherry picking through my own past life
and falling in love with the story.
I’m afraid I’m becoming my own audience,
a belly full of mirrors.
I’m afraid this book is turning into a funhouse graveyard.
I’m afraid that everyone else will see me
more than I can see myself.
I’m afraid of who I become when I am left alone
to tell the stories without corrections.
I’m afraid of forsaking my altar to reality
for some other new feeling.
I’m afraid of deciding what the truth is.
I’m afraid I am giving up on everything except the ghosts.
I’m no longer afraid of the people who will tell me I’m lying.
I’m afraid that somewhere,
some part of me is.
I still haven’t settled on a final title yet. I’ve been really resistant to using words like quarantine and pandemic in my poetry recently, and I’m resisting it here because I think I’ll still have to deal with these things “after this is all over,” whatever that means.
I should also add that I wrote the first draft of this poem in the middle of the night after rewatching the season 2 finale of Westworld. Something about the way that show tackles time and memory is very fascinating and generative for me as a writer. I was surprised that I had the urge to write as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to go to bed, but I know better than to assume I’ll remember my thoughts in the morning.
Now, as promised, here’s your prompt! (You kind of get two this time, since I also shared Micah’s prompt.)
Choose an emotion. In this example, the emotion is fear, but you could choose love, hate, anxiety, gratitude, grief, or anything else that comes to mind.
Make a list of people, places, things, ideas, memories, conflicts, etc. that you feel that emotion about. The list can be as long as you want it to be, and the items on the list can be as simple or as complex as needed.
Look at your list and see if you can group any of the items together under a shared theme or common umbrella. Notice any patterns or silences that you may want to explore. Add details, context, explanations, etc. to the items you want to delve into.
If you write a poem inspired by either prompt and feel like sharing, I’d love to read it! You can email it to me at brown.christina.leigh@gmail.com, or slide it into my Instagram DMs @christina.leigh.brown.
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Best,
Christina