I am Simple

 After hearing I am Metis by Deb Vos

I am simple

I am not complicated

I am not educated

I am not learned, but I am

I am like my mother

I am like the family I ran from but never escaped.

I am hiding. I am hiding.

I am hiding the truth.

I am hiding the truth about myself.

I am isolated. I am isolating. I am isolated by my shame – and more

I am aging.

I have a younger woman in this body. This body.

This body with the bad knee and the gray roots

The failing vision. The short term memory loss. The high cholesterol.

The depression. The depression.

The depression that I cured with pharmaceuticals

Proving that the cure can be worse than what ailed us.

I am cured. I am cured. I am cured.

I don’t cry. I don’t cry.

I don’t cry at sad movies, sad poems, sad songs.

I don’t cry at parades anymore and I always cried at parades.

My emotions are memories

The scent of musterole

The taste of molasses.


Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “I am Simple

  1. Patricia Compton Mishler

    More good stuff!! Glad you’re home safe. You’re moving me to write again – not sure if I can, but I’m working towards it. It’s been a long time and I’m not sure the block is gone. You know that block – the emotions / the loss…it can be crippling.
    Thanks for being you!

    • brendamantz

      Patricia – Eunice Scarfe, one of the workshop leaders at Skidmore is setting up a blog to help us break through our writers block. Keep an eye on http://eunicescarfe.wordpress.com

      Thanks for your comments. It is good to be home and slowly getting back to normal.


  2. I write here because ‘elegy for daddy’ – i can’t comment on. but this brenda, i can.

    my eyes move over the words
    and i feel you in my pores
    we swim in the same bay
    it’s simple, no simon needs to
    tell me that i cry all the time
    and have to suck up
    and hide many tears
    my doctor tells me
    i am early to menopause
    and that this is the cause
    but to cry at so many things
    is a curse when you don’t
    normally cry at just the sight
    of an old couple holding hands
    or is it?
    i see the judgement (she’s a wreck)
    in peoples darting eyes
    and it is true emotion rules my life
    but dear god don’t ever let me not
    (like when i was on those pills
    that my mother wants me to go back on
    and everyone else that wishes me and my pain


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