This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-11-09 14:11:22 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Taking your leave

Before I fix these thoughts,  these private alchemies, alloy  subtle suppositions to a plan and perhaps—perhaps—to an action, I pause before I think and think these thoughts aloud, again, and snatch back the coarser echoes, again speak them so, much slower, softer, and be satisfied that, still—yes still they must be said. So, what do I do when, finally, I do discover my deepest truth after a lifetime diving blind? How cursed this blessing is if you who blooded my lungs must now be left behind. What do I do? If my truth  is not the truth  you want for you, what then? How can I now be true  when I discover you  are unlike me, just as you said? I thought you were out to break  my heart with that news, instead you strangely kept it whole and knew that, savage as motherhood, this love may not be yours to keep. Could you be true to you had you not? And what if I do not listen, now? But now, perhaps, I find that you were right. Pleased? As the punch that ends a fight,  wretched for all the wrong reasons. You said it, you have said it all these years, yet now it snatches at my throat, a suicide sip of unalloyed freedom, released by a cyanide, the kind you simply can’t be sure you really want to find. And yet you really must take it. Or so it seems.

Copyright © November 2005 Mark Andrew Hislop

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-12-06 11:17:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.20455
MAH, This is a pill i pray I never have to imbibe. My sympathies. The ending was a nicely wound up ball of misery. MSS

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-12-02 17:29:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60465
Don't eat too many peach pits! You must read my poem today on truth! So, you are unalike each other. That's good. One needs diversity. this piece is not drivel. It is honest to the gut isn't it? Nicely written in soliloquay (sp?) format. It does ring true (or so it seems).
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-11-27 17:13:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.68421
Mark, Isn't life a kick? We find a gal and believe the relationship's going to work. We're blinded by our emotions. At long last we see, what should not be. Liked: what do I do when, finally, I do discover my deepest truth after a lifetime diving blind? How cursed this blessing is if you who blooded my lungs[great imagery] must now be left behind. It's pretty sad what we have to go through to grow. Good job Mark. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-11-24 21:08:31
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.25000
You're getting a lot of mileage out of this mode. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. Perhaps something in a Byronic rhapsode. Or a chocolate malted. tew
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-11-11 19:27:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mark: This poem is like a faceted gem. Turned this way and that, it reveals different colors and light. I have read it many times, and it's going to be hard for me to give you my internal response, because it is so internal. Externalizing these subtle emotions, as you have done in this poem, is a taxing thing for me, an introverted, gloomy type to do. But I am smiling even as I say this, as it would appear to be a lie to many who believe they know me well. We don’t know each other well in this world, I often feel. This is one of my fascinations with poetry, for it reveals that which is interior. Our inner dialogue, written so that others may read and take what they may from it. I take a lot, but I am uncertain how much of what I take is connected to your intent or experience of your own writing. I do know I enjoy your precision, honesty, fluidity, and use of language and especially sound. The poem makes me reflect, deeply, on relationships in my own life and the truth or falsity of them, according to present perspective. I especially enjoy your phrase “private alchemies” as I think this is what the process of writing promotes for both writer and reader. Reading this poem is an experience which will change my perceptions of things. I think this is the power of poetry. So, what do I do when, finally, I do discover my deepest truth after a lifetime diving blind? And then, reading these words, I felt that we are always “diving blind” but perceive, perhaps for a moment, that we see clearly. What will be the speaker’s (writer’s) next revelation? What is “deepest truth” for any of us? How do we recognize it, and do we act upon it, realizing that it may be part of a process which will reveal yet deeper fathoms? The way you have written it evokes so many emotions for me. The question “What do I do?” is so provocative, because it does seem apparent that truth must be acted upon if realized, if for no other reason than to test its verity. And you show how one person’s ‘truth’ may be unacceptable or unreal to another. How do we react to one another out of our separate truths? How can I now be true when I discover you are unlike me, just as you said? Your poem also reveals to me how painful it is to be a separate person. Yes, we do treasure our separateness, but most easily so when within the safety of relationships which we can define and by which we receive our self-definition. And then your final revelation: You said it, you have said it all these years, yet now it snatches at my throat, a suicide sip of unalloyed freedom, released by a cyanide, the kind you simply can’t be sure you really want to find. The “unalloyed freedom” calls so strongly as to be compelling. The cost, the “suicide sip” or death of what was once secure. Your ambivalence to this costly discover is so palpably worded below: And yet you really must take it. Or so it seems. Awareness is a terrible thing, or so it seems, for it asks the bearer to act upon it, without knowing the outcome. Do we really want to know the truth of things, you ask. Thank you for this thoughtful, piercing work. It discomfits me, it makes me want to know whether I want the “unalloyed freedom” that I seem to be seeking in my own life, as the cost is not clear. What are we apart from the relationships which define us at any given point in our lives? Best always, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2005-11-09 20:52:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60000
Well, not really "such sweet sorrow" is it? Mark, you have talent. Your use of "alchemies" is not loose, you create an alchemy of poetic language twice in this highly rich poem, texturing it into unity with continued use of alchemical term (unalloyed.) "a suicide sip of unalloyed freedom, released by a cyanide, the kind you simply can't be sure you really want to find" is of the highest calibre of writing. Did you know potassium cyanide or sodium cyanide solutes silver the same way aqua regis solutes gold? This poem has a sadness to it, almost a tragic sadness in that the conflict is about self-discovery ("I discover my deepest truth after a lifetime diving blind") trying to merge with the expectations of another. One variable is bad enough, two are catastrophe. The lie that men and women are essentially the same serves no understanding and, only when we are reconciled to the reality that the differences are not only present but sometimes stark, do we press on without bitterness. Here, the likeness to alchemy ends and we are left merely with the less than metaphysical, unbalanced equation. The wisdom of that realization resounds in, "And yet/you really must take it". The afterthought, "Or so it seems." is the human nature to relent. An elegant touch. JCH
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