This collaborative poem emerged from the Hart House series “A Writer’s Process: The Inside Story” March 2012. Participants were asked to take a line or a phrase they’d written in the three week series and to write it on a flipchart on the last day. The poem was put together by Poet in Community and Hart House Writer in Residence, Ronna Bloom.
The Inside Story
More than just the weather has my spirit soaring.
I am at this poetry workshop. I have absolutely no idea what to expect.
The teller sees the marks on the walls and joins them into new constellations, takes the disorder, the unknowing, births stories.
Like the fake sand, synthetic; the fake coconut attempts to be alive,
attempts to let the white creamy paste bury it.
Growth can’t be achieved without risks.
Why does it feel like I am always putting out fires?
Did the same green grass meet them,
did the same blue skies mock them?
The blueprint email informed the meeting will take place in the Bickersteth Room. It was locked. I felt a sudden strange feeling of impending doom.
I really really think things are going to be Okay.
A breath between words
…an everlasting puncture/bruise…
A break is not to do anything at all.
Two lines I heard at the workshop:
“All that can happen is that I might feel something.”
“What did I survive for…to stand cowering?”
We don’t talk,
yet I see her.
she sees me
we talk that way.
I am still listening to the conversation below.