Festival for Poetry shared my poem, “June 04, 2020 in Buffalo, NY,” on their site! Have a look and tell me what you think, won’t you? Of course, you can also read it here.
I had to write it after watching the protests over the summer. I wanted to scream at my screen and, well, writing is how I scream. And laugh and cry … you know how it is. After I wrote it, I almost didn’t share it. I have a thing about sharing the personal stuff.
Isn’t All Writing Personal?
Yes, I know all writing is personal to an extent. But poetry is raw. It’s feelings and thoughts that reveal bits and pieces of truth. Not always the whole truth or an eternal truth, but even a momentary truth is still true, isn’t it?
The rage you feel? Perhaps it isn’t really “you.” Perhaps you wouldn’t actually act on it. But, in that moment, your rage isreal. And there is a truth in that emotion, if you’re willing to sort through the ephemeral to find it.
Anyhow, I’m grateful that Festival for Poetry shared my poem on their site. I’m also grateful to the lovely bloggers who’ve liked it. I do feel a bit exposed but it’s in a pure way rather than an insecure way, and I’m choosing to sit in my happy about it.
I originally shared it here for free. Please send me a message if you read it before and have read it now that it’s officially released. I love feedback!
I consider it to be darkly psychological pandemic fiction. The story is set in our current times, and yet it functions as an overarching metaphor for my struggles with mental health. I wrote about this in the Dedication page within the story.
The Drive … even the title is a double entendre, although not risqué. The commentary I’ve heard most regarding someone’s struggles with depression and/or other mental health conditions is generally focused on the individual’s will power. That is, their drive.
I tried to explain to someone once that their loved one wanted to do x, y, and z. It wasn’t a matter of wanting or willingness. It was a matter of being physically unable to comply with one’s Will.
I wasn’t able to communicate the message effectively that time, I’m afraid. It’s chaffed at me ever since. Eventually, the seed for this story was born, as I set about trying to see things from the perspective a person who hasn’t seriously struggled with their mental health. What situation could possibly convey some semblance of the struggle?
If you give it a chance, please let me know. This is a deeply personal topic for me, and I’m sure for others. Disclaimer: this is only what I think and feel based on my experiences. In no way do I claim to speak for anybody but myself, nor am I suggesting that this story is representative—some experiential standard—of what mental health struggles are like for anyone else.
Author EIQ just shared a new poem, “The Bonsai.” Here’s an excerpt of her thoughts on that post: “I actually started writing this years ago. It used to make me feel full of myself. Not anymore. We’re all whatever we are. We can all feel however we feel. Plus, I do love bonsai.” Follow the […]