This Poem was Submitted By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-05-12 11:01:34 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Scar the Wing Leaves

"We have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone." - Jelaluddin Rumi I have worn my brother's shoes out so long in the night, felt the pavement beneath, air shuddering all around me. I have lived in those moments, briefly, knowing myself - I hesitate to say completely. Whether I have seen a flower bloom, wither, and die, for one never knows truly the face of God - this is what it means to submit. It is difficult to trust. This is serious. What do I leave in the shoes, as they stand in the space near the bed? I cannot explain what it feels like to fly, to one who is not yet overwhelmed by clouds. It is not for me to say. We each have steps we are destined to tread upon. It is as if our footprints have been placed upon the ground, and we are only to feel the heat released to our souls, and move on. We are to say nothing of this. It is understood that we do not share these experiences with another. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is hard and unmoving, pavement I have tread upon daily. As I carry his shoes, I too know what binds me to the earth. 

Copyright © May 2004 G. Donald Cribbs

This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-06-08 20:21:37
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Donald--I am just so thankful that you won. I've read your 'autobiography'--and am just so 'taken' that you have devoted 100% of yourself to your craft. And this is no easy thing, but encompasses a lot of life--your marriage and family and hobbies and crafts and neighbors and your prayer life-- all the aspects that make you "you". I cannot speak--I am speechless--in the presence of this poem which is so deep and human at the same time--and I cannot help but wonder: what kind of mind can even think these things out to conclusion. It's past, now, the May contest. It doesn't matter that you like or dislike what I say--but just wanted you to know that I have to seek you out and read--even if sometimes I may not understand it all. I have to. Your mind is compelling. Be assured, my spirit understands much that my mind does not. Wonderful peek. Marcia

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-06-06 20:28:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Hi Don, What a wonderful poem! It is so poignant, and the speaker so aware of the implications surroundinghis brother's absence. In many ways, "brother" could be expanded to include us all. We walk in many pairs of shoes that others have been forced to leave behind. The "heat released to our souls" is a wonderful metaphor for fate or destiny. The final line is unbelievable! When I read it, I shivered with that frisson that marks a truly rare gift. As "one who is not yet overwhelmed/by clouds", which you are and I am, this piece is as close to flight as it gets. Then again, the title itself is magnificent. I didn't have this poem on my list at all, but as soon as I saw it I had to take a look. I'm sorry I have inadequate time to critique it thoroughly but it will certainly go on my voting list! Just one small nitpick: in the penultimate line, "tread" is present tense, so you'd need "have trod" or else you could just omit "have" [tread]. i think I'd go with dropping "have". No biggie. Exceptional work. Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-06-06 20:28:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Hi Don, What a wonderful poem! It is so poignant, and the speaker so aware of the implications surroundinghis brother's absence. In many ways, "brother" could be expanded to include us all. We walk in many pairs of shoes that others have been forced to leave behind. The "heat released to our souls" is a wonderful metaphor for fate or destiny. The final line is unbelievable! When I read it, I shivered with that frisson that marks a truly rare gift. As "one who is not yet overwhelmed/by clouds", which you are and I am, this piece is as close to flight as it gets. Then again, the title itself is magnificent. I didn't have this poem on my list at all, but as soon as I saw it I had to take a look. I'm sorry I have inadequate time to critique it thoroughly but it will certainly go on my voting list! Just one small nitpick: in the penultimate line, "tread" is present tense, so you'd need "have trod" or else you could just omit "have" [tread]. i think I'd go with dropping "have". No biggie. Exceptional work. Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-06-06 20:28:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Hi Don, What a wonderful poem! It is so poignant, and the speaker so aware of the implications surroundinghis brother's absence. In many ways, "brother" could be expanded to include us all. We walk in many pairs of shoes that others have been forced to leave behind. The "heat released to our souls" is a wonderful metaphor for fate or destiny. The final line is unbelievable! When I read it, I shivered with that frisson that marks a truly rare gift. As "one who is not yet overwhelmed/by clouds", which you are and I am, this piece is as close to flight as it gets. Then again, the title itself is magnificent. I didn't have this poem on my list at all, but as soon as I saw it I had to take a look. I'm sorry I have inadequate time to critique it thoroughly but it will certainly go on my voting list! Just one small nitpick: in the penultimate line, "tread" is present tense, so you'd need "have trod" or else you could just omit "have" [tread]. i think I'd go with dropping "have". No biggie. Exceptional work. Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-06-03 18:38:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
This is a rare work which really contains some astonishingly profound lines throughout. In a way it feels both cohesive and disjointed at once. It's hard for me to break down this poem, as the whole thing blows me away. Super good job. Too good really for me to express any critique at all. One of my favorites all time on TPL. Thanks, REEG!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-05-30 17:31:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.37500
Don, extraordinary depth in [and between] the lines of this work. Self-exam time seems always present, to some. I also have problems with mirrors at times. Excellent title that says more than most can tell in a page. I will attempt no alteration, only state my enjoyment in absorbing this - over and over. Nice job, sir. Peace be yours. wrl
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-05-29 09:20:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.72000
G. This poem is reminiscent of Frost's I have out walked the furthest city lights... I like the image of you wearing your brother's shoes it gives a sence of grief or mourning to the poem. And then there is the fatalistic acceptance of what is happening and the knowledge that sometimes god is larger than our understanding of him. Overall I like this poem very much nice job. Sandra
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-05-25 16:15:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92857
Don: We share a love of Oliver and Rumi! The daring notion of the reality of ineffable knowledge - that which can never be spoken - informs this work. It is good to be reminded. Though there are "ways within each other that will never be said" this poem says much, alludes to much, directs the reader's attention indirectly to the central theme. We know ourselves through knowing one another, but we know one another imperfectly. (I hope I haven't strayed too far from your intent here.) The speaker, wearing his "brother's shoes out so long in the night" breaks my heart with his tenderness. All of our witnessing seems to be a slight echo of what reality is, how it impacts each of us. We skim the surface, your poem seems to show, or at least for me. It is so very true that we "have lived in these moments briefly" and the speakers hesitation to say that he knows himself "completely" is the crux of the matter. It is pointing, indirectly to a certain hubris on our part that we do know ourselves "completely." We may have a temporary paradigm we live by, because if we become more aware of how little of our 'self' is conscious, we must stop what we are doing and search for our true motives. But I am getting too far into philosophizing and away from this poem as poetry. That it is, and beautifully so. The alliteration, consonance, imagery and cadence are all finely executed. I did find myself stumbling a bit, but this could be as much my reactions to my own inner response as difficulty with the work. I have lived in those moments, "briefly", knowing myself - I hesitate to say "completely." -- the assonance here, for example "Whether/flower/wither/knows" -- examples of deft alliteration I felt the repeated "this is" and "it is" were slightly distracting. Several ideas are magnificent and may almost stand on their own as poems. For example, I would have given anything to have written-- "What do I leave in the shoes, as they stand in the space near the bed?" OR "I cannot explain what it feels like to fly, to one who is not yet overwhelmed by clouds." I can easily become lost in either of these thoughts, profoundly introspective as they are. "It is as if our footprints have been placed upon the ground, and we are only to feel the heat released to our souls, and move on." I seem to have gotten caught not moving on! I am standing in the footprints, pondering, completely flummoxed, trying to figure them out, rather than "feel the heat released" (or live within the emotions contained in each life experience) and moving on the next one. Next, part of your poem seems to be a caveat: "We are to say nothing of this. It is understood that we do not share these experiences with another." This presents a conundrum to me, as your (faithful) reader, and as someone whose primary occupation during my working life was to sift out experiences with another human being in order to understand their meaning. I am very intrigued by the contradiction I feel here, though I may not understand your intent correctly. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is hard and unmoving, pavement I have tread upon daily. As I carry his shoes, I too know what binds me to the earth. Perhaps as we see one another (mirrors) we see ourselves. We are "bound to the earth", I think the speaker is saying, by duty and love. The supreme act of love seems to be to continue to carry our brother's shoes. We are in a world of emotional meaning, and yet we seem detached, unable to decipher what is before us. Is it because we lack certain abilities needed to do so? The most wrenching of emotional moments are limned herein, but we cannot (or should not attempt to) fathom them. I am struggling, still standing in the footprint and not moving on as I ought. Thank you poet, for respecting our own ability to look within for 'missing' parts of what is suggested here. Bravo! All my best, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Karen Ragan On Date: 2004-05-19 00:27:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Donald, You have an interesting style. The images are elusive and could be viewed in different perspectives by different readers. Uncertainty seems to second guess itself--"I have lived in those moments, briefly, knowing myself - I hesitate to say completely." Here goes--my thoughts. I have worn my brother's shoes out so long in the night, felt the pavement beneath, air shuddering all around me. A universal thought--to understand a person's emotions and reactions you must walk a mile in their shoes, experiencing what they have experienced. Yet, can any of us ever really duplicate another's experience? Not really, but we do better understand our brother's pain or joy by experiencing similar circumstances. Pavement could symbolize the concrete, established; but the air is always moving and changing. 'Shuddering' adds even further unstability to this air. We feel its currents without ever seeing its substance. I have lived in those moments, briefly, knowing myself - I hesitate to say completely. Whether I have seen a flower bloom, wither, and die, for one never knows truly the face of God - this is what it means to submit. It is difficult to trust. This is serious. Words such as moments, briefly, hesitate, and flower bloom further the feeling of uncertainty--here today, gone tomorrow. I love flowers, but their beauty is so brief. What a perfect metaphor for life. We are always changing and life is always changing us. Thus our understanding or knowing--especially of ourself--is never finished, but always evolving. We see God in the nature of our spirit and the nature of this earth, but do we ever trully come to full knowing? So much change and uncertainess makes it so difficult to trust. Still, we must live in the moment, accepting and submiting to what it reveals to us. What do I leave in the shoes, as they stand in the space near the bed? I cannot explain what it feels like to fly, to one who is not yet overwhelmed Here your focus changes and the images become more elusive. What do you leave in the shoes? nothing but empty air, more uncertainty. I associate freedom with flight. I can only fly like a bird in my dreams. Our freedom from uncertainty remains in the clouds for now, but who knows when we might be overwhelmed by the clouds? Our dreams tell us it will someday be so. by clouds. It is not for me to say. We each have steps we are destined to tread upon. It is as if our footprints have been placed upon the ground, and we are only to feel the heat released to our souls, and move on. We are to say nothing of this. It is understood that we do not share these experiences with another. My favorite lines are found in these stanzas--"It is as if our footprints have been placed upon the ground, and we are only to feel the heat released to our souls, and move on." Free will denies the idea that destiny is concrete or already set for us; yet, I believe a path has been paved by destiny where our footprints are waiting for us to find. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is hard and unmoving, pavement I have tread upon daily. As I carry his shoes, I too know what binds me to the earth. Now you bring the reader back to the reality of the moment. I feel good about myself until I stare into a mirror. I see each blemish and see more that I would change than I am content with. We all experience many of the same feelings and emotions, but we are distinctly unique too. As we walk awhile in each other's shoes, we come to see our likeness more than our differences. In last lines you carry the shoes instead of wearing them. Without shoes to protect the feet, the pavement is especially hard and stones easily bruise the feet. As you carry his shoes, perhaps you share his load, feeling the same stones that have bruised his feet along the road of life. I've only given my thoughts and insights--no suggestions for change. I like it just as it is. Karen
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-05-14 04:54:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.28571
I live a more black and white life. A life of Newtonian physics and Oslerian physiology. Perhaps that is what drew me here. The nectar is so sweet. An interesting, thoughtfully posed, well constructed piece of art, Mr. Cribbs. It shall hang in my atrium for some time. Thanks. Wright
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-05-12 18:22:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
If this title is the reference to the tale of scars left by angel wings then it seems a little too precious to me. If there is another meaning – woops, sorry "We have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone." - Jelaluddin Rumi nice epigram I have worn my brother's shoes out so long in the night, Ah, great - this is what enjambment can do! felt the pavement [beneath –where then?] air shuddering all around me. I [] lived in those moments, briefly, knowing myself - I hesitate to say completely. [ I] have seen a flower bloom, wither, and die, [but] one never knows truly the face of God - this is what it means to submit. It is difficult to trust. This is serious. Indeed! I like the conversational tone that is developing What do I leave in the shoes, as they stand in the space near the bed? I cannot explain what it feels like to fly, to one who is not yet overwhelmed [wonderful mystical section] by clouds. It is not for me to say. We each have steps we are destined to tread upon.[footsteps?] It is as if our footprints have been placed upon the ground, and we are only to feel the heat released to our souls, and move on.[GREAT} We are to say nothing of this. It is understood that we do not share these experiences with another. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is hard and unmoving, [the surface is pavement I have tread upon daily. To clarify the intent- as I see it – you need to be a little clearer or I have to be a little smarter. As I carry his shoes, I[,] too know what binds me to the earth. In addition to whom? Perhaps just “I know what binds me to the earth” Lovely and spiritually complex.. Tell me if I am messing too much with the language of your poems and I will stop. Best, Rach
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-05-12 16:27:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Don, Consummate, as I'd expect from you. You write like a professional artisan, a journeyman who has been at his craft for awhile. You could shoe my horse anytime - or read me a poem or two, if you're so inclined. Specific critique? I despise that route, not knowing enough about poetry to cram such a critique in the time i have to do it. I also despise rating responses to my poem. Shit, any comment at all gets a 10 from me, and deservedly so. No reader deserves to be pulled down by a grade. I'm not trying to influence you. :) The poem did not grab me emotionally. The consummate craftsmanhip grabbed the brain, though. Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-05-12 16:27:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Don, Consummate, as I'd expect from you. You write like a professional artisan, a journeyman who has been at his craft for awhile. You could shoe my horse anytime - or read me a poem or two, if you're so inclined. Specific critique? I despise that route, not knowing enough about poetry to cram such a critique in the time i have to do it. I also despise rating responses to my poem. Shit, any comment at all gets a 10 from me, and deservedly so. No reader deserves to be pulled down by a grade. I'm not trying to influence you. The poem did not grab me emotionally. The consummate craftsmanhip grabbed the brain, though. Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2004-05-12 15:55:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Oh Donald, this is superb. I love your philosophy. To know yourself, however briefly, is a marvelous bit of introspection. How many actually sit and be still and go inside to search for what they are. One never knows truly the face of G-d, hence the burning bush. But will we when we die? I hope so, otherwise all is for naught. Thanks for giving me this time to reflect. There is one small correction (I think) to make. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is hard and unmoving, pavement I have tread upon daily. As I carry his shoes, I too know what binds me to the earth. It is sometimes difficult to stare into a mirror. The surface is (as)hard and unmoving, as the pavement I have tread upon daily. It's your poem. This is just my take on that particular stanza. Thanks for posting.
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