Me. I’m to blame. I had the challenge for the Poetry Sisters this month. I found it in THE CREATIVITY PROJECT, edited by Colby Sharp. Each of the forty-four contributors to the book submitted two prompts. Colby doled out the prompts, each person receiving two from which they could choose one to use “to inspire an awesome creation.” The book is filled with those wildly creative creations! In addition, the book contains “forty-four fresh new prompts, one from each contributor, intended for you, to inspire your own creations.” I chose Colby’s challenge from page 257:
It was all my fault.
This prompt has been haunting me a bit. First there was the article earlier in the week from Maria Popova’s Marginalian, “How to Reconcile Your Most Painful Mistakes: The Life-Shaping Difference Between Regret and Remorse” containing this perfectly spot-on bit:
“You know it, that awful moment your coherent self-image shatters and a part of you, shadowy and untended, splits off to cause harm and havoc as the rest of you watches helplessly, wincing. You know the next moment, too — the desperate wish for an undo button you know cannot be had, no matter your protestations and prostrations.”
Oh, yeah. The list of things in my life that have been all my fault are definitely wince- and cringe-worthy. I couldn’t imagine writing about any of those.
Then Seth Godin’s blog post today dropped into my inbox with the title “Responsibility, fault, blame and shame” and this zinger of an ending:
“Shame’s the deal killer, the dream destroyer and toxic. It’s often on offer, but we don’t have to accept it.”
We don’t have to accept the shame. Let’s write that on our hearts and move forward.
Luckily, I had several very fruitful inspirations for my poem(s) today. First, in our zoom on Sunday, some of the other Poetry Sisters suggested using an inanimate object, a cascade of events, an environmental crisis, or a mentor poem such as “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” or “This is Not to Say.” Those suggestions helped free me from my life-list of blunders. But it was Joyce Sidman’s book DEAR ACORN (LOVE, OAK), which sits at the end of my desk, that gave me my entry point. That book, plus some recent events in my garden.
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Tricia has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect, and the rest of the Poetry Sisters’ offerings are here:
Laura @ Laura Purdie Salas
Liz @ Liz Garton Scanlon
Sara @ Read Write Believe
Tanita @ {fiction, instead of lies}
Aw, ML. “You were my first home/and my first food.” is now one of my favorite bits of a poem ever. These are both just spot on and so dear. I would love to read a whole collection of them. You, the Woman, saved the day. Over here, I AM THE ONE THAT KILLED ALL OF THE DAHLIA TUBERS. My friend saved the day and gave me some of her leftovers. There, it’s said. Big gardening and poetry hug. xoxo, a.
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The Woman found you! I love that you placed yourself in third person in this poem. I am using Joyce’s book to inspire one of my teaching artist workshops. When I gave it a try, I got mixed up by the perspective. Duly noted so I can teach from my mistake. Another mother of butterflies mistake happened when I was out of town for a swallowtail’s emerging, so I inadvertently killed it. Oh, the guilt and shame was real.
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Reading fennel’s note was a bit heartbreaking. I love caterpillar’s response.
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I’ve always loved fennel, and now I’m IN LOVE with your second poem. The first one is so delicate and wistful, expressing longing for the job we wish we could’ve done better. Rain really isn’t our fault, but at least you got the little guy to shelter at last.
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Oh – so much in the garden simply has to say, “Best wishes” and carry on. The fennel did what it could and how lovely the memory – and the intervention!
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… meanwhile I will write Seth Godson’s post on my arm.
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Such endearing poems! Love the voices you created for fennel and caterpillar. I, too, would love to see an entire collection of these. 🙂
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Mary Lee, your poems are full of sensitivity and concern as voices exchange information. Thanks for sharing your process leading up to these two poems. Enjoy your weekend.
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What a response! I love the response of the little black caterpillar. That’s icing on your cake of ‘Dear Tiny Black Caterpillar.’ The lines that got me: “though the weather’s no fault of mine…” really hits me hard for whose fault is actually is. When will enough people care?! And, “I blame myself for failing you.” This is such a universal line of any parent…we cannot be everything our children need even if it’s not our fault. Oh, this is rich verse, Mary Lee. Thank you.
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A perfect mentor text for your poems, Mary Lee! Both are so full of heart!
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Such tender and endearing poems Mary Lee, my heart aches for the dear fennel. And oh that strong little caterpillar, I can see it soar one day, thanks for both of these lovely gems!
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The fennel’s urge to provide! The wave of love and memory that swept over me when I read “you were my first home/and my first food”! Oof, that’s so good. And it all conjures so much. Who knew your garden would have me tearing up today, Mary Lee?
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Doesn’t the plant world offer and offer again ways to say what what’s on our hearts? Sometimes it’s metaphorical and sometimes it’s just true. Beautiful.
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Caterpillar giving grace as grace should be given. This is lovely and nuanced and full, Mary Lee. Thank you.
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