To Be Recloistered
And I become overwhelmed with the blare
of voices, the cacophony, sometimes. Imagine
a parade of faces in motion, exultation crowding
like I’m in the back of a busy elevator, pressed
between the wall and the tip of my nose.
It wasn’t always this way–just another side-
effect of getting sick. The funny thing is that
this chronic illness I must have had since birth,
the doctor says. So no getting. So much
has happened in the last two years.
14 thoughts on "To Be Recloistered"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Great description of that feeling of claustrophobia, Shaun. Hate that feeling. Have a sense there’s a lot of poems to come out of the past two years.
Shew thanks, Bill. It’s crazy to think of how many poems can come from one small apartment.
Shaun – I love the title and the poem. You portray that sense of isolation that comes with the word “cloistered” but with so many layers added to it. Living in a building with elevators, I can identify with that experience of blare and crowd (and usually an unruly dog or two who don’t like elevators). I wish you healing and well being!
Thank you, Sylvia! I think we’ve all had that sardi experience elevator experience. Trying to keep our space even when crammed together
“pressed/ between the wall and the tip of my nose”–reminds me of sitting in a grounded packed plane for what seemed like an eternity last week. What I especially appreciate about the poem is how the second stanza refuses to panic.
Thanks, Dr. Bedetti! The plane probably would have driven me wild! I always panic at first but try to draw it right back in.
Shaun: the descriptive power of the first stanza is amazing. It brings the reader onto the elevator with you to experience what you’re experiencing. I think whatever else is going on, foremost you’re a poet.
Thank you so much, Jim. The last couple days I’ve tried to poet but the heat plus my work schedule has dampened it just a little
Before I read the other comments, I mistook the two years to be Covid related, the isolation of lock-down or quarantine that created a sort of lack of tolerance for noise and crowds, the illness that was already inherent but emerged post-lock-down. Or the illness being complications brought on by long-term Covid.
Thanks for your comment, Sue! For me, the two years of Covid roughly overlap with the last three or so years I’ve been dealing with a chronic illness. I did find myself emerging from quarantine feeling keenly differently-abled than how I was before it.
I found the poem here “pressed/between the wall and the tip of my nose”
Thanks, Amy!
Love how this starts out in the middle but is at once an excellent beginning.
Thank you, Allen! I was trying for that and was unsure if I pulled it off ok