Poem: Efflorescence
A bit of backstory:
I knew when I applied for college I was going to major in physics. It was the only subject I had encountered that was both challenging and engaging, and I found it deeply satisfying to finally glimpse the theory behind everyday phenomena. A bit like opening an instruction manual for Life.
I am a problem-solver by nature, and stubborn to boot, so physics was a near-perfect fit. However, as I progressed through my degree, my eating disorder became my primary coping strategy, replacing all of my previous hobbies. Days were split between obsessing over food and obsessing over school. It was terribly monotonous.
I found myself longing for an excuse to get lost in someone else’s story. Reading had once been my oasis- I was the kid squatting on the asphalt with their nose in a book during recess- but my new hyper-sensitive nervous system prevented me from immersing myself in other worlds. Reality demanded all of my attention now. Who would research the optimal low-calorie bread substitute if I was off frittering my time on something that (gasp) brought me pleasure?
Ever the over-achiever, I finished my core classes for my physics degree ahead of schedule and decided to take up a double-major in creative writing. It’s sad and frustrating when you can only enjoy things for the sake of other people. I needed to turn passion into work, so I could earn my pleasure. At least I was reading again, long, full novels full of complexity and other people’s suffering.
What I didn’t expect was the poetry. In order to finish my (second) major, I was required to take poetry, which I resented. Poetry was just too… touchy-feely for me at the time. It made me squirm. There was too much emotion in it! Worst of all, I had to write my own and read it aloud to the class, twice a week. Torture.
As I began to use words as an artistic medium, I was uncomfortable with how easy it was to slip into the same touchy-feely zone that made me consistently itchy. I found myself writing about my body, and my sense of isolation from it, how lonely I was amidst my peers, and my far-off dying grandmother. The writing transformed difficult emotions into something tangible. I could use analogy to work around the fact that, most of the time, I actually wasn’t quite sure how I felt. Emotionally OR physically!
My final poetry portfolio is one of my favorite pieces of work from my time as an undergraduate. I’ve continued to use words to paint my feelings, and I no longer squirm when I read passion. I’ve decided to start posting a selection of my poems, not because I think they’re great, but because they’re meaningful to me, and I want to lead by example.
So, without further ado:
“Efflorescence
Let your body be a vessel,
A cistern to a desert nomad
Who will sow the seeds of your oasis.
I am here with rope and pail.
Patience, while I draw you out,
Though I know we both long for water.
Let your body be a beginning,
Tender shoots seeking purchase
As I shield you from the harshest Sun.
I am here with cloth and trellis.
Courage, while I bind you fast,
For I am here to guide your ascension.
Let your body be limitless,
A bud bursting into full bloom
As I, exhausted, exalt in your climax.
I am here to catch you.
Drift, my petal- I will tend to this garden-
For we have made a paradise that others envy.
”
