Christmas day evening:
kids sat on the floor in the middle
of the living room, surrounded by
presents, toys, wrapping paper,
tearing open the next big box and
waddling over, handing it to me
to release the contents. Sitting
on the couch unwinding plastic ties,
fighting with cardboard – Barbie or
a fire engine lying in my lap, waiting
to escape from plastic prisons.
Leftover turkey, salad, pigs in blankets,
pork pies, yule log. Coronation Street
Christmas special with the subtitles
on because everyone is being too
loud to hear it and there is no catch-up
or on demand TV. There is just shouting
and laughing and glasses clinking and
toys beeping and blaring, fairy lights, a
tree adorned with twenty-year-old baubles
and a wonky star, musty metallic streamers
criss-crossing the ceiling, the glow of
the electric fire, warm bread rolls in our
hands, and the outside world forgotten
even if just for one day.
Author: writersamr (Page 24 of 45)
why
is silence made so heavy?
something
so quiet should be
weightless
and
not a burden
frowned upon by the
masses.
there
is a constant
pressure
to
change.
I
just can’t.
and I’m not
sorry.
You could tell me being quiet isn’t a bad thing, but years and years and a whole childhood of being told otherwise means I’d never believe you.
I don’t know if they’d like what I have to say, either.
I wasn’t planning to do this tonight, but I have been asked today what my cancer story is, and not for the first time. So I’m basically doing now what I intended to do when I was first asked by someone on Tumblr a few months ago but never got around to – a brief summary of my cancer story.
So I’ve been thinking about getting counselling to help with fear of recurrence, self confidence and body confidence stuff, but there are a number of reasons why I’m apprehensive about getting counselling. So I thought I’d try to be proactive in giving myself some self-therapy. I haven’t found much on the internet about how to do this, but the above is a really quick list of a few things I’d like to put in a kind of self-affirmation scrapbook. Other things I thought of after I took the pic were poems I’ve written that I’m really happy with, poems I’ve had published that I’m proud of, and my favourite selfies. I’m not sure if I’m going about this the right way. Like, I could keep adding to the book and read the positive things in it, and use it to identify things I want to change and figure out how to change them as well. I don’t know, what do you think?
you, my body, you are alien to me
like a skeleton in a nightcap
and we are two different people
both disparaging each other, my
disappearing self-esteem – I don’t
know where that went and I don’t
know where I’m going. But people
seem to like us, and I am finding
that really weird these days, and
I hate that I find that weird, and
it’s a problem, but not a bad
enough problem to bother anyone
else with. it will be bad and then
it will be good and there will be
no need for words anymore
and you, my body, my skeleton
in a nightcap, you will remain
unearthly to me, and I will
remain unearthly to myself.
it’s not that far to go
it lurks just below the surface
like the loch ness monster.
everyone else thinks it’s fictional,
a figment of my imagination,
because they’ve never seen it.
but I have, I’ve felt the waves rush
to the river bank as it moved,
I’ve reached out and touched it
oily skin, its skin much thicker
than mine. I’ve negotiated its humps
as it invited me aboard its back, I’ve
felt the powerful swish of its tail,
I’ve held on for dear life as it moved –
because it felt like it was all I had,
and it understood. it was no mirage
to me, and it still lurks there now.
I know I can revisit it at any time,
sometimes unwillingly. sometimes
I go there just so it doesn’t sneak up
on me. Nessie is always there.
I know there is a starry sky up there
somewhere, but for now I’d rather
cling onto Nessie. it’s a comfortable
fear down here, and she knows me
best, now that she’s shaped me,
manipulated me, turned me into a
mirror of herself, a shadow of me.
the water is hypnotising. it would
be so easy to dip a toe in, even though
it’s cold, even though it hurts, even
though it’s the darkest place I’ve
ever seen. the temptation is great
for no logical reason other than to
feel so deeply.
the water runs so deep
and Nessie is the way in.
she is
easily accessible fear
trepidation on tap
anger on demand
there is
a pool of trauma
hidden in this lake
where Nessie lives.
Nessie says ‘tumour markers’
and I panic, stop functioning,
struggle to catch my breath,
just sit and glaze over like these
words are mine, thrust upon me –
and why don’t they belong to
others around me too? – but
they don’t, they’re just mine
and I have to handle it. so I
take a deep breath, grasp onto
it. the consultant says he’s
sending me for a tumour marker
blood test and I say okay as if it’s
fine, and it sort of is, because
I’m strong enough. I could carry
Nessie herself – instead of bobbing
in the water as she takes me
wherever she wants me to go
because she is in control – so
yes, I could carry her weight
but I wish I didn’t have to.
Every time I listen to Professor Green’s music or watch one of his interviews, I feel so inspired to write something, to be brutally honest, to open up a blank Word document and spill my guts and share it with the world. Pro inspires me to write more than any author does, because he inspires me to be honest and open and to be myself, unapologetically. And for me that’s the most important part of writing, that I say something that’s important to me, and that writing it down makes me feel good, even empowered. He gives me self-confidence in that way. He makes me feel like if I have fingers and a pen or a keyboard, then I can do anything.
I had a short story published in Scarlet Leaf Review today! It’s called Mirrors and I’m really pleased because it’s the first short story I’ve ever had published, as opposed to poetry and memoirs. Here it is, if you’re looking for a quick read – hope you enjoy!
http://www.scarletleafreview.com/shortstoriesoct2016/category/sam-rose
Jim Harrington over at “Six Questions For…” has kindly posted an interview with me on his blog. It’s an interview about editing Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine and The Creative Truth, including how the magazines got started and what I look for in submissions.
Here it is:
http://sixquestionsfor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/six-questions-for-sam-samantha-rose.html
Enjoy! 🙂
