Sarah Latham

Webster
2/16/18
English 2

Self Directed Poem

Artists Note: I wrote this poem in relation to the anxiety I have been dealing with the past few
years. I used different metaphors, asyndeton, polysyndeton, and parallelism to illustrate my
perspective. I used metaphors to compare how I have felt to unrelated events, and asyndeton to
create immediacy in my words to develop the tone. At some points I used polysyndeton to
slow down readers in order to capture the essence of my thoughts and actions. Lastly, I used
parallelism to really emphasis how consistent these feelings are, how anxiety can feel like
running in circles and experiencing the same feelings and the same hurt. I wrote this poem not
to make people feel sorry for me, or try to understand how to help me, but simply because it
feels like no one is listening. I purposefully did not capitalize my i’s in order to create the
effect of rawness, like I had just ripped this out of my notebook never thinking anyone would
see it. I wanted myself to become irrelevant, and the focus of the poem be more on the events
causing my nervousness. In all respect to the public school system, I emphasized capital letters
when referring to God so that I could portray how important a factor He has been in my life
and in my struggle with this. My poem doesn’t have a particular storyline, or correspondence
between each stanza, but sometimes I feel like my feelings and life doesn’t have
correspondence or a particular storyline either. Oh well, I hope you enjoy.

the night was hell.

i watched the flames shine across your broken ignorant face and i finally know what it feels like
to have someone you love slap you across the face and leave a mark that never seems to fade,
not necessarily something i ever wanted to feel.
oh Lord you made my heart strong but my mind so weak and i succumb to everything this life
tells me to be while trying so hard to hang onto the heart strings you crafted so beautifully that
tie me to You.
tell me this isn’t all and you have big bold plans for me.
heal my soul and make me breathe again without shaking fingers and quivering breaths because
no matter how much happy he brings me my body is overwhelmed with this terror and hurt,
though nothing imposed by him.
my watering eyes stare blankly at a white wall and i wonder what sort of paint i could smear
across it to breathe hope into my lungs and warmth into my fingertips.
i delight in the sunshine that dances upon the wet concrete that soaks through my sparkly socks
that my nervous mind paid a mere five dollars for when i should never feel the sadness of not
having the money i need.
it seems that your cool palms soak up all the mess and brokenness that is me and make it lovely
again.
i’m trying to hold myself together with scotch tape but you’re some sort of crazy glue picking up
the remnants of me as they slip through my fingertips.

today my mind slips away.

my stomach churns at the thought of an algebra test that i can barely understand
a spanish quiz my brain couldn’t wrap around the difficult vocabulary words
a history test with 35 pages of numbly written notes
a chemistry test with problems i feel like i haven’t learned
but oh my soul feels free
it’s sundays that fling my heart through the clouds because i’m overwhelmed with grace and love
and all the things the world needs more of
i tell myself this it it you can live like this and try to overcome the immense nervousness that
seems to course through my veins because even when everything is good there must be
something that isn’t but there isn’t so i am left frustrated.
i’ll never be able to explain this feeling how there is figuratively and literally nothing that is
wrong but also physically and figuratively everything that is wrong.
i’m told to breathe deeply and do meditations but my lungs collapse inside my chest
then i’m told to journal and write what i feel but my hands shake and my brain can’t process
emotion through ink
then i’m told to tell another perfectly fine living breathing human what i am feeling but i choke
on the words and i’m embarrassed as unconscious tears stream down my cheeks and i can’t even
admit my faults to my best friend.
i’ll never understand perfect relationship with imperfect people because it’s not real,
but when big sean says ‘talking about his hoes might be more interesting than talking about his
wife down at whole foods but how when he’s with her he feels whole too’,
i want that.
my heart aches for belonging and purpose but until the right people serve it to me on a silver
platter i think i’m starving.
and i did.
but i was told combined with my mind and my emotions i couldn’t do that so i took every ounce
of strength the good Lord gave me and stopped.
i was told to love myself through my cracked edges and soft touch and through my voice that’s
just a little too loud because why would i want to be like anyone else when who i am is so
beautifully and fearlessly me?
and i began to understand big sean and his ideas about love.
it’s not wearing the nicest things or driving the nicest car but screaming taylor swift until your
vocal cords are sore and laughing for no particularly good reason and realizing that in all this
awful mess that is the world there is always hope.
and i am on my way to feeling whole too.