"Those were hard things for me to come by, and I offer them to you for what they may be worth." - Toby Wolff



Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Cutting An Orange



I am just a woman cutting an orange.

I could be the woman getting a divorce,
faith rattled
and no longer reliable,
or the girl without a childhood,
the child without protection.

I could be the one whose knife quivers
as anxiety mounts an attack worthy of all out war,
or the one whose e-mails hail her like Paul Revere
needing and assuming,
and whose work calendar overflows its daily boundaries.

I could wear the colors of past Spring
or the hues of coming Fall.
I could sing a swan song
or whistle a new aria that would lessen my impact
on those I hold dear.

I could be the woman who has neglected family
avoided friends
and hibernated in the disillusional safety of a foreign land.
I might even be the flesh that was not touched
in ways that made her cringe into her sunflower sheets
at too tender an age.

All of these things gather in the blade of my knife
as my breath swims a shallow stroke
that never reaches the shore of my lungs.

I teach the hand to tell the blade to steady the knife...

This moment I have not been harmed.
This moment I am not hurting anyone.
This moment is not the accumulation of misdeeds
and their consequence on the future.

I am just a woman cutting an orange.
.
.
.
.

34 comments:

  1. oh dear god annie: put this one somewhere where you not only understand living in the moment but recognize the depth of your talent. this one is a grand slam. it reflects, it weighs, it sings and then, the camera returns simply to a simple act.

    i am going to leave two comments because i don't want this one to be anything but bravo!

    love
    kj

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  2. my second comment:

    I might even be the flesh that was not touched
    in ways that made her cringe into her sunflower sheets
    at too tender an age

    oh damn damn damn. i am so sorry. i wish being sorry could heal. i do know healing is possible, maybe not acts forgotten, but healing, yes. i've seen it with my own eyes.

    i am ever glad to know you, annie.

    love
    kj

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  3. KJ, Your split personality hits home here in the comments. And aren't we all...two halves of self, vying for reconciliation? Ha! Well, maybe it's just me :) Thank you sweet friend. A home run. Well...that I have never done before. Yep. Bravo me!

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  4. Annie,
    This is a knock out...A poem called cutting an orange could be stretched,plated and presented in a such a way is unimaginable...except you it turns out...I can see the sentiment...and i know there is a lot more you would have wished to write ..isn't it...

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    1. There is always more I think I should have said, and there is also always less. This was an excercise in mindfulness. I was having an anxiety attack cutting an orange. WHY? Who does that???? But my mind was circling around problems with no forseeable solution. Sometimes problem solving needs to be shut off. So I said to myself...at this moment, I am just an orange cutter.

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  5. and my darlin' you could also be the woman who is learning lessons she needs to learn, who could be the woman who is emerging, who could be the woman who is being broken OPEN to see all that life is opening up to show you, to nurture you, to send you in the direction you must go.

    (and read this - http://pinkpunkchick.multiply.com/journal/item/13/Just_Say_Thank_You_-_Oprah_Winfrey?&show_interstitial=1&u=%2Fjournal%2Fitem)

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    1. Oh yes...that is good. Several people have suggested the gratitude journal idea. So it must be something I should do :) I was watching Chronicals of Narnia the other night with my Nephew. Prince Caspian said, "I have been too focused on what has been taken from me, rather than what's been given." Good point. Something is always being offered, even through pain and uncertainty.

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  6. Oranges?

    The old 'Godfather' omen of something getting ready to happen??

    You are heading in the right direction... You are asking the right questions.

    ~shoes~

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    1. Uh...something good getting ready to happen, or something not so good? :) There are no stupid questions. Right?

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  7. nothing,,has the fragrance of an orange...a unique individual, one might say...reckon?

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    1. I love the smell of orange blossoms even more than oranges. And together they are unmatched :)

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  8. Tasks done alone within our own conversations produce these thoughts. The poem is wonderful, of course.
    Could be someone with a paint brush staring at an empty canvas. Just someone planning on changing white to red.

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    1. You could substitue cutting an orange for anything. It was just a means of pinpointing focus and getting off the hampster wheel of my thought processes. You are just a man painting a canvas.

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  9. Annie, I don't feel well enough at the moment to digest this orange, so I will come back later

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  10. Oh gosh. This one physically hurt. But then I read "as my breath swims a shallow stroke that never reaches the shore of my lungs," and I thought, such stunning, evocative, beautiful words were born from what started as pain.

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    1. These panic attacks are killing me. They are bred from anxiety and produce more anxiety and at some point you just have to bow out. Thank you Liza.

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  11. two halves? heck, annie, i'm already up to four quarters and who knows who else is lurking and rumbling in there? but everybody's welcome: just more of me :^)

    thank you too sweet friend

    love
    kj

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  12. Wow!
    ;~)
    Rabbit

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    1. Genola tells me to ask myself, "Am I in any danger right now?" whenever I have a panic attack. Unfortunately it doesn't work. For me there is more "talking down from the ledge" that needs to occur. This poem was just one of many instances daily where I have to teach myself new tricks. (However, based on my tendancy to slice myself open with sharp kitchen utensils...this might have actually been a good time to panic!) :)

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  13. This is one of the best poems I have ever read in my entire life, and you know me, I read poetry like it's my religion, my holy books.

    I have been there. I have been there, so many times. Wondering if the world, if my life, the things I have gone through, was going to turn me into a weapon. Wondering which side of the blade I'd end up on, the one that can move forward or the one that can only hack backwards and try to kill everything that grew it. Bits and pieces of me being wrong and wondering what I could do to cut out every single piece of that wrongness. I might even be the flesh that was not touched...

    I am in the kitchen with you, many times, many lives, and I am rooting for both of us to become the perfect definition of a knife: useful, but not harmful.

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    1. I am honored by your words Tracy! hank you! My my my!!!!

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  14. You continue to make me look at the ordinary in new ways, inspiring!

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  15. All the could be's and should be's and in the end we are all just humans cutting--whatever it is. I believe your heart may feel in danger now and thus the panic, but what do I know? I am just a woman writing.
    xxamy

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    Replies
    1. I love this comment. Indeed - yes you are! JUST (as if a word could encapsulate) a woman writing.

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  16. An insightful poem. My dreams at night go there, but my day time thoughts seem to be just ordinary. I wonder if I am suppressing or denying my emotions.
    i just seem to keep calm and carry on.

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  17. are you still upside down, annie? be careful how you hold the knife if you are.

    love
    kj

    ps three comments on your post: i'd best wave softly :^)

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  18. I think this was one of the best poems I've ever read. You're out of this world, Annie.

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  19. Ohhh I have been quiet lately and this poem is certainly is about focusing on now. I too find myself swimming in to much thought about this and that, when my mind should be here and now. A great exercise you did when having that panic attack by becoming the orange cutter.

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  20. i hear you breathing from here. when you repeated that first line again last...it was everything important.

    xo
    erin

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  21. "All of these things gather in the blade of my knife"

    Wow. Powerful words. It's a beautifully written verse, but of course, the message is rather sad. Somewhat hopeful, but also sad.

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  22. Perfect, Annie, perfect. I hope only that you were using a butter knife, you know, for safety.

    Seriously, though, this poem reached me and touched my heart, which as you know has its own reasons for wanting to cut oranges. Thank you for writing it.

    - Eric

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Thank you for listening.