Poetry
by Jeanne Souldern
disowned self
Look at me, look at my face
I try to look in the mirror at my face
Yet I only see my father’s
His rage, his madness, his perceived injustices
I don’t want to look at them, can’t
He was angry, wrong, selfish
In denial
Of the hurt, he inflicts on others
I can’t look at his anger
I might just see the seed of my own
All these years I’ve felt betrayed by him, by his temper
And now I realize there’s a good chance we may be cut from the same cloth
My mother was the passive one
Acquiesce to the bully
After all, he is your husband
Didn’t you say yes to that “love, honor, and obey” bit?
I choose not to be passive
Being docile gets you hit
Submission leaves you to die like
An injured lamb bleeding from the puncture wounds
Of the gnashes of the wolf’s resentful teeth
In the years since his death
I’ve made him the boogie man
I’ve cast him as the misunderstood husband and father
I’ve diagnosed him many times over
Then I return to the place
Where I know him
I know his anger
I know because I feel it too
The world had better listen to me
Or else
My anger is ugly, it is blood boiling
It’s saying hurtful words knowing
Full well they’re hurtful
It’s wanting to strike first
For, at the core, is the fear that
They will strike me first
When I’m angry
It’s not him
It’s me
The me I’ve disowned
Until now
27 Boxes
At age seven
I sold 27 boxes of Camp Fire Girls candy
In our neighborhood
I went out all alone
How many blocks walked
How many doors knocked and
How many strangers had
Listened to a little girl
Chocolate-covered caramels
And mint patties
And the assorted chocolates box
Where are your parents, little girl?
Mom and Dad are busy
I don’t mind being a little girl all alone
I want to sell for my troop
At my school
Sometimes the walk is lonely
But that last nice lady bought two boxes
And she thanked me for being so brave
To venture out all alone
Brave, I thought
Maybe that is what I am
But I wanted to be a part of
Doing good for my troop
If that means I’m brave
Then I guess I am
A brave little girl
I sold the most boxes of candy
My troop leader gives me
A paper award
With my name written on it
And 27 boxes sold
For years, Jeanne Souldern wanted to be someone’s muse. Now, she wants to be her own. She moved to Carbondale, CO from Minnesota in November 2018. Photo of the head of her hand drum. “The spiral always felt like a life’s path… you may circle around again but you will see things from a different perspective.”