Static Crumbs 2.0
On revision & resharing
The Fifth Pillar is emotional intelligence (EQ) with a pulse: think EQ in action, not theory. I outgrew my old title (Dear People Pleasers). Like shoes two sizes too small, it pinched. So I made room: The Fifth Pillar is where I can stretch, stumble, and grow in my approach to both writing, and the pursuit of a deeply fulfilled life.
If my essays or poems hit home or inspire you to try today’s writing style yourself, consider this your VIP invite. I’ll be hanging out (or hoping to be) in your inbox every Tuesday.
Dear Reader,
Part of the draw to writing, for me, is the ability to mentally process my thoughts in a slower, more self-aware way. I get to try on different phrases, definitions, feelings, and expressions over the page before they ever appear before your eyes. As a highly sensitive introvert, this method of communication gives me peace of mind, and space to untangle my thoughts before anyone else reacts to them.
I also (selfishly) love writing because I don’t have to compete for your attention this way. Those who care to know what I think or feel can join me right here- in my secret garden of words. I never need to yell, speak over, or beg. It’s an open invitation. This is the invitation all writers extend, and why I consider many of my books to be mentors; their authors are speaking directly to me as a reader.
So, what does it mean when we want to redact what we’ve said? We had the time to think about it, more intentionally than a LIVE verbal conversation…why go back and make a change?
Well, just like with spoken word, writing can call for amends, too. I recently read that “good writing” is “clear thinking made visible,” from Ambrose Bierce, the American editorialist and journalist. Sometimes, my writing is not as clear as my thinking. Sometimes, my thinking is not as clear as my writing. Sometimes, neither is clear- but I write anyway (sorry).
This week, I am sharing a revised poem that I posted here about a month ago. At first, I thought it would be a waste of time, and a disappointment (to you) to read something similar to what I have previously shared. After some pondering, and shedding of my ego, I am deciding that it’s normal to make revisions, to our writing, and our lives.
The original version of the poem, Static Crumbs portrayed a glimmer of what I was feeling internally. I tried to pull at a storm from within and pin it down with words, in external form, which only came across in tiny shards.
After trimming the setting from two locations (the bakery and the open sea) to one location (the bakery), I am feeling clearer in my thinking, and hope that my shards have become visible to you as your own reflection.
Upon the original publication, I left the relationship of the two characters open to interpretation; it could be any two people who care for one another. While this is still true, I’m now ready to tell you that in my writing of this poem, the characters are intended to be siblings, wading through life’s storms and sunny patches, together. I’ve mentioned before that I have four younger siblings. We span in age- my younger brothers a decade behind me. This gap seems to fade when we get the chance to connect, and I feel as though we are all facing similar challenges in our own individual lives- a kind of common bond between us.
Here we go for take two, I hope you don’t mind- and if you do, I’m not a people-pleaser anymore, so you may file your complaint elsewhere. ;)
xX kaylen alexandra Xx
Humidity swells as
Water drips around us
False advertisement of “Nonna’s Lemon Cookies” lies broken into chunks and crumbs scattered across the brown paper bag they were collected from the bakery in
“Nonna is NOWHERE in these cookies,” you say
“Her spirit has LEFT the building,” I reply.
We sneer down our noses at the wannabe lemon treat
disappointed that our expectations were betrayed
So far off from hitting “the spot”
Your finger arranges false lemon curds into clumps
It’s hitting you now, and there’s nothing I can do but let the hot air envelop you- let it fold me in, too.
Abandoned cookies scattered, like stretched
limbs of Gumby
in search of your grasp.
Thunder slaps the window as
our hands clasp in the bakery.
Together, gulping moist clumps
Nonna’s fake ass cookie, arranges static constellations of crumbs between us.
You break off a piece
and hand it to me
an invitation to hang on
to dangle from our
shared mind
shared spirit
as we ride out this storm.
We sit longer than we are prepared
you- blowing crumbs across the table
where they land perfectly in my scratchy lungs.
We push morsels back and forth
and sit suspended
hand in hand
control relinquished.
A neurotransmission of lightning cracks
we see a break in the clouds...
*
How lucky am I, to sit out a storm
With the likes of you?
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I love this poem! 😍 I will read it 1000 times. More please. And...if I didn't revise, I'd be fucked. Nothing wrong with a good polish!
Good morning. I hope one day we get time to just write and have talks about that. I was reading your email and thought about you saying "As a highly sensitive introvert, this method of communication gives me peace of mind, and space to untangle my thoughts before anyone else reacts to them". It made me think, for all the editing and thought you get to put into what you write, so that you can be as clear or intentional as you want, there is still a major chance of being misunderstood since we all interpret things differently. (I know you already know this) it's just a reminder to hopefully give us writers peace that we may never be understood.
Anywho, I also want to talk about your revised poem. I don't know if I get (I think), but I can visualize the whole scene which I love. I saw two people at a bakery in a fragile, troubled relationship (not necessarily romantic). And I read you (the people in poem)projecting their hardships and complex relationship onto something more tangible (the not-so-nonna cookie). Am I way off?