Some hang onto yesterday,
yet I hang onto my ecstasy,
too afraid of what I will see
behind closed eyes.
It's like poetry becomes my church,
when you are too scared
to let your feelings go home,
so you print and collect them
like written photographs,
hiding secrets that flood the mind
with heartache and regret.
The pen keeps writing,
the feelings stay contained within the ink,
and that is why I write,
to see if my ecstasy will save me in time.
I LOVE the concept of poetry becoming your church. There's something so unique about this piece, and especially the phrasing in certain lines like: "when you are too scared to let your feelings go home". I liked the idea of thinking of where our emotions go when we write. Do we feel that sense of freedom in letting the ink speak, or as you mention, do we only allow the ink to see them, containing them in a safe and secure place. The thought of ecstasy here made me imagine becoming vulnerable - do we choose to not share our feelings to avoid the pain that comes with remembering them, acknowledging how they still affect us? Do we have to validate the feelings, both good and bad, in order to prove to ourselves that we can still feel? Do we keep writing with the hope that we will witness a true release of what binds and weighs us down?
Such a creative piece that still feels mysterious to me. What ecstasy means to you is personal, protected, and has a lot of interpretations. Like confining our fears to one known spot in the hope that acknowledging them doesn't rid us of the opportunity to feel a certain joy, free and without boundaries. To feel something that is beyond what we know, a happiness that isn't temporary or fleeting.
Definitely going to come back and read this again. Happy to see this on the front page, congrats!