Oh yes. Every trip has a homesick day! If only you could predict which day it would be and plan accordingly. The best thing seems to be to just plan to have some days spent quietly being not doing and dole them out as needed.
I might write something more on the prompt, but my first impulse was to record a vignette seen out my window last night at sunset:
This is really powerful. That image of a house on fire... we know it happens, but it's still so shocking. I've never seen a house fire, but I once saw a car engulfed in flames along the highway. That image has a permanent place in my psyche.
Yes, this is definitely that “tired halfway through the vacation” kind of week. Writing has fallen to the back burner while I work on keeping the other plates spinning. But I had an hour today, so here’s my poem that came from the line of the week. Not sure what to do for formatting, but this was just a freewrite. Might have to make edits someday:
I love this, Hannah! Especially "we've made a pocket for ourselves/where the world is made quiet." And I love how you find your way so naturally to our prompt line at the end. Brava!
Thanks for the inspiration Tara! I’ve used this weeks line as a starting point in two ways. It’s the first line of the poem, and the words form the first word of each new line. https://substack.com/home/post/p-157465167
Oh yes. Every trip has a homesick day! If only you could predict which day it would be and plan accordingly. The best thing seems to be to just plan to have some days spent quietly being not doing and dole them out as needed.
I might write something more on the prompt, but my first impulse was to record a vignette seen out my window last night at sunset:
on a pale parchment sky
blue-gray clouds puff and whirl
there, one is catching fire at the edge
a red smudge, an escaped cinder
So lovely. Those evenings when the sky seems to catch fire are so special. Thanks for this.
"there, one is catching fire at the edge"--oh, I can see this so well.
My first fire
.
But I see its cinders red on the sky
-Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Travel”
.
There was a fire. That should surprise no one.
But I had never seen one, never seen a house on fire
never seen the trucks pull up, one by one, the red of them
lining the narrow hill down from our apartment.
.
We stood on the sidewalk with the others, watching
orange light reach to the sky, snapping against the stars.
My roommate was a police chief’s daughter
marching down to ask if there was something we could do
if someone needed help. She carried a blanket with her.
.
I wasn’t brave like that. I just stood and watched, worrying
about babies wrapped in blue blankets, grabbed by blackened arms
from the heart of the fire. In the cartoons, death could be evaded
at the last second. I didn’t know then that you could swallow smoke
.
that the damage to your lungs could change your inner landscape
turning it all pitch, turning the pink charred,
death without burning
still fire death.
This is really powerful. That image of a house on fire... we know it happens, but it's still so shocking. I've never seen a house fire, but I once saw a car engulfed in flames along the highway. That image has a permanent place in my psyche.
Oh, I can imagine how harrowing seeing a car on fire would be.
Yes, this is definitely that “tired halfway through the vacation” kind of week. Writing has fallen to the back burner while I work on keeping the other plates spinning. But I had an hour today, so here’s my poem that came from the line of the week. Not sure what to do for formatting, but this was just a freewrite. Might have to make edits someday:
all screens shut off
our home is a quiet zone
lets hide away in the campground
of our back yard.
I'll put up the tent,
you can start the fire.
we'll sit around, the noise of the
streets beyond the trees
drowned by the crackling of
a crumbling log.
we've made a pocket for ourselves
where the world is made quiet
the sunset is all from outside
that's been invited in.
the blazing atmosphere becomes our tent
the comfort of its shade drawing our gaze
away from the flames
but we see its cinders red on the sky.
I love this, Hannah! Especially "we've made a pocket for ourselves/where the world is made quiet." And I love how you find your way so naturally to our prompt line at the end. Brava!
Ooh. Your poem gave me the chills.
Thanks for the inspiration Tara! I’ve used this weeks line as a starting point in two ways. It’s the first line of the poem, and the words form the first word of each new line. https://substack.com/home/post/p-157465167