The woman laid herself down in a field of knotweed with a razor blade and the men came running, first the white shirt, then the red hat, then the black shoes that danced to the sirens’ screams. Help is on the way, but she looks so peaceful over in the sunlight and hot shadows. Surrendered. They never come running if you’re tenacious and strong. I know. I’ve been writhing here lonely for days, weeds growing from my heart.
Words ©2014, Jen Payne
Image: Great piece of turf study of weeds, Albrecht Durer, 1503
Random Acts 10 
J-J-J-EENNNNNN!!! You’re scaring me…! What’s going on…? Did I read this too literally? Am I thinking too much it’s you?
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I’m fine. It was just an observation of an event and a reflection on the ways in which we all suffer and ask for help.
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Nice piece!
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Thank you!
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THIS IS JUST TOOOOO SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! XXX
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Yes. Sometimes it is, isn’t it? xoxo
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The power of your perception here is a source of healing for me, Jen. From me the greatest of affirmations: you sound like Marge Piercy.
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Somehow the words of the poem suit the weather outside my window. It’s a beautiful piece but I’m glad to know, from the above comments, that it does not reflect your state of mind. Still, someone does need to write about the not-so-happy endings that we all experience.
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It’s our job, I think, as writers…to bear witness. No? To talk about the happy and not happy endings – and everything in between.
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Beautiful and very poignant writing. 🙂
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Thanks C.B.
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Scary. And powerful.
Glad it’s poetic and experimental rather than hot off the heart!
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Loved this piece because of all that!
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