The New Blade

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I keep finding poems that make me cry.  I cry so much more than I used to.  For years, I was too busy and distracted to notice the exquisite pain of things. But my son is getting ready to fly from the nest, and I cry randomly and often. I already miss him. Here is a poem that brought more tears–and some relief as I remember its happening everywhere. Its happened for ages, and in every culture.

The New Blade, by Anzai Hitoshi

My son is using a new razor

with clumsy hands.

Grooming himself as a grownup for the first time,

he spreads his elbows wide, as in a ritual,

very fastidiously, not looking sideways.

From below his temple a smear of blood

as big as a bird’s tongue keeps flowing,

no matter how often he wipes it off,

and he looks a little afraid.

What is hurt in him, I wonder.

His naked back is moistened, shining bright

like a tree trunk with its bark peeled off.

Although he doesn’t seem to hear them,

birds are singing loud in unison

around the young tree trunks.

He doesn’t seem to see it,

but the sea is rolling in the mirror.”

Here is a painting that went through lots of transformation, sort of like me lately.

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Happy Spring everybody!

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8 thoughts on “The New Blade

  1. Thank you, Laurel, for your deep and heartfelt sharing. I love the ways you use your creativity to express and process your feelings…and I appreciate that you are so willing to share so tenderly.
    PS May the tears and the paint continue to flow.

  2. I cried so much when my daughter left home for school that I finally had to write a little play about crying in the shower and how “I didn’t expect this. I thought this only happened to mothers who baked cookies. I didn’t think it happened to mothers who bought from the store.”

    I send a heartfelt hug to you as you get through this big shift – and don’t let anybody tell you it’s not big. Your art will help and the emotion will help the art, so it can be a win-win, painful, but a win!

    Love to you…Molly in San Diego (formerly Whidbey Isle)

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