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.
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”
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