i cannot save you

Love
by Michael Konomos


i cannot save you,
but i will not look away.
or cover my ears.
part of me dies with you
but that is how i will remember.

our lives on the scales
we weigh the same.
i will carry this weight
and walk through the black
though we cannot walk together.

they will wonder why
i chose this way.
it is because you could not.


I [Michael Konomos] wrote this after seeing a story about a man that lost his whole family in the Japanese tsunami but somehow survived (if it can be called surviving), and another woman that lost her daughter but was able to survive holding onto a mat that floated by. I think of the countless people who were washed away and whose meaningful lives are just part of a body count now. It also makes me think about all of the other tragedies we have seen in recent years. We all wrestle inside about how to deal with them, whether or not to even watch or read about them, because it feels like too much. It's easy to numb out, especially when it feels like there is nothing we can do. Sometimes it feels like the best gift I can give, as pitiful and useless as it is, is to care and to remember. It doesn't make much sense to people, and maybe it is foolishly melancholic, but somehow it feels right to me.

* * *

Although written as a response to the recent tragedy in Japan, this poem speaks a truth that is universal...It is never useless or foolish to walk with those who grieve...to remember those who suffer such loss...to feel the weight of the tragedies of our fellow man...it feels right because it is right...

Yippee! Two of my poems published!

This is a bit of a divergence, since I normally focus on only the adoptee part of my life at this blog. But I figure it's good to diverge every once in a while, especially since I'm taking a bit of a "break" from the adoption realm.

But even still, this is somewhat relevant, since much of the poetry I write shares a kind of connection to my adoption experience, even if somewhat indirect.

Two of my poems were published this month (on pages 10 & 27) in an annual literary publication, "The Inkling," sponsored by the mother monthly publication, "The Verge."

Although a small local publication, I still feel pretty honored to have gotten a couple of poems published in this year's "Inkling"-- the other writers with whom I was published, in my opinion, produced beautiful and quality poems, prose, and stories that challenge me and call me higher. Kudos to my fellow writers! And also, if I somehow squeaked in there among writers whose work I can appreciate and admire, then maybe I'm not all that bad.

(And maybe now I can officially say that I'm a "writer" being that I've been published several times, even though in very small, niche publications? I had another poem published last year in the same publication, on page 9 titled, "Creation," but didn't bother sharing...I'm weird like that. I also will have an interview printed in the next issue of "The Adoption Constellation," and I write or have written for a couple of adoption sites? Ok, maybe not quite ready to proclaim that I'm a writer, but getting closer...)

But if you feel so inclined, give it a looksy--there really are some gorgeous writings and some interesting art. I personally liked the poem by PM Rogers, "Good night, Ambrosia" and the one by Daphne Maysonet, "My Theory Sonnet" as well as the one by Abby Spasser, "A Prayer for My Father."

And of course, if you so desire, my two poems are on page 10, "The Engagement" and page 27, "Destinies." For insight, "The Engagement" is a short haiku-like poem written about a time I punched a tree--yes, really--I was 19, and just beginning to awaken in response to my adoption. And "Destinies" was written after Mike & I viewed the poignant film about Iraqi orphans, "Turtles Can Fly."

* * *

[Also, if you happen to be interested, I have more samplings of poems I've written contained within this blog under the label, "poem"...]

Catch 22

I am my father's daughter.

But which one?

Both.

It can't be both.

Why not?

You have to choose.

But I am choosing--

Both.

No, but we mean, you have to choose

one.

or

the

other.

I choose--

One

and

the Other. or

the Other and

the One.

Why does it matter to you anyway?

this is none of your business,

telling me who I can and cannot

love,

who I am and

am not.

I'm choosing now,

unlike

that time I did not get to.

Choose.

[and a life was chosen

for me]

But it was a better life,

for you.

Smile and bow.

What if

I wince and weep,

instead?

Because now,

I sometimes wish

I could have lived

Two lives.

So nothing and no one

would have been lost.

And no one could tell me that

I must make a choice between

two parts of

me.

Between two parts of

a love that was never meant to

be divided,

never meant to be

pitted

against one

and the other.

dissident

i am not a traitor.

but i feel.

Like.

One.

I have not committed

treason.

and yet i hear.

Like

One.

the silent accusations.

like snakes in my ears—

dis-

loyal

dupli-

ci-

tous.

perfidi-

ous.

i have not engaged in

treason.

yet i feel.

as though i am

choking and swinging.

Like

One.

who has become

an infidel.

but i am not.

One.

yet i am permitted the choice of only

One.

despite the inescapable mathematics of

displacement:

in which,

1 = 2.

the solutions to

family and humanity

require a flexible arithmetic.

that calculates for the presence and absence

of variable absolutes =

cliché,

you mutter.

so, i mutter back—i

will cease utilizing cliché

when

i am no longer considered a

cliché—

when

1 and 2

no longer equate

to being at odds

with the variable absolutes

of

family and humanity—

when I can look into

the crowds.

and see more

than.

an Ungrateful

Selfish

Dissenting

little.

Traitor.

ash

Even darkness has a form.

I believe it looks something like:

Me.

I entered into sabotage.

again.

The weight of this burden

crushes

until my eyes begin to leak.

and

my forehead.

begins to crack.

But there is no turning back.

i crept out

perhaps.

before the metamorphosis

was complete.

wet and viscid

mouth incipient,

pushing

to bud lips.

i could not speak.

i could only crawl and creep.

you found me.

in what you thought was

the last breath.

and muffled me in

your own kind of

blanket.

until it became my

skin.

until i became

akin

to

smiling and the

convenience of

omission.

that is,

until.

that day.

when my memory began to stir,

and my lips had finally bloomed.

I crept back.

in search of where I

began.

I found my origin--

shriveled and black

almost nothing but

a stack

of unknowable

weeping

ash.

(feeling lost) Again

I am feeling lost. Again.

I exploded (or imploded) again.

I ended up on the floor again. Like a pile of rags.

I wanted to punch the wall again.

I wanted to scream and screech and hiss.

Again.

I wanted to walk away. Again.

I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be invisible. Again.

Like I was before.

Before I got a glimpse of what it is like to be seen.

by someone who wants to see.

by someone who will hold you to a mirror.

and smile

because he sees what you do not.

cannot.

and he says that it is--

Good.

the Tower

I walled myself in.

Again.

I crawled into the tower and

Dropped.

the key.

Watched it.

slip off.

the edge of the window

And thud to the ground.

I was starving myself. and

Giving her exactly.

What.

she

Deserved.

her ravishment is all that i have known—

she became the breather of fire i was attempting to

Escape

And the rage.

i was hoping to snuff out

Grew

Into.

my nostrils

Into. my eyes

Into. my fingertips

and all the lies,

flamed whispers,

slithered.

their way onto my tongue.

Until they danced their way into

A Song,

that I recognized as

Something true.

Something truer than the truth:

Doom.

she wrapped her mouth around it,

it turned to ash,

then a gray dark paste,

then a dull black jewel—

crooked and cruel.

it cut its way into

her stomach,

then dug itself into—

the weakest

chamber.

until she began to choke.

And.

i began to bang.

my feet against

The wall.

In my tall,

Cold

Tower.

where i became the monster—

the only fire-breather.

i have ever known

who can survive such hunger.

who can swallow

such Doom.

Mathematics

I am walking around in the darkness
up some kind of 90 degree angle.
the math sounds impossible,

but that is just what makes it possible--

in a place like this.

I like to say that my face has character,
"it is well-traveled," I believe I have written
in some other attempt to avoid acknowledging
that I am beaten-down and torn.

(it is the discarded furniture that the euphemistic
qualify as having "charm")--even charm will
age beyond. the reach of euphemism--

so, I buy these labels and
picture boxes and
tiny, round glass jars.

to catalog proof of my humanity:

I tend to claw and ravage
like a starving animal.

something primitive still ticks. and. tocks
in the darkness waiting to be filled among--
the neurons and
synapses--

where mystery jumps the gaps: you will feel me
with your microscope and tweezers

I am only matter
collecting in your beaker,

vapor rising from
your Bunsen burner.

but the light you poke into the darkness
cannot find its home here.
because the math. here. is impossible--

the absurd and uncooperative angles. inspire
alone the simple--

who cannot be deceived
by the trickery of the
inflated and the greedy calculations of the
man who loves to think we can conquer

everything.

I will keep living among the impossible
where my face will continue to gather-- character.

and perhaps, one day, I will no longer
require proof of my humanity--

I will lose my labels and
picture boxes. and
tiny, round glass jars.

I will find no darkness. no gaps.

I will find the eternity of

the simple.

out of our Bones

I am feeling something like deflation or implosion creeping into me A sadness An emptiness A shutting down A fear that someone told me--I should not be feeling But I think perhaps this fear is natural in a situation like this Fear of a magnitude that dismantles me slowly. Cell by cell Atom by atom To take down this bomb Fear that clings to me and makes me sob within but not without--because this kind of fear keeps me locked. inside. I know the things to tell myself I know the thoughts that I should think But I am underwater all is muffled all is drowning all is sinking I do not understand. it. fear of being wrong fear of losing fear of the world crashing down he said it will always be something With you there is a lesson to learn here. my life is only lessons. I feel mocked And not. taken seriously. so, she said, tell me, then, how one learns not to fear. tell me, then. your secret. share with me then your genius. and then. there was. only silence. until someone said. there is always something. to learn. so that there is always. something. to grow. to force the stagnancy out of these bones. it is not that you should learn never to fear. it is that we can learn. to unfold. to that rarity. to the peculiar. that anomaly. these days.

to get out of our bones.

Reaching

I am frantic I am coming unraveled My skin cannot contain me This tempest of thought and emotion It is every kind of storm It is the sun burrowing its heat through these temples and chest It is the rain stinging as it slaps against arms and legs It is the snow--with a cold burn--seeping into face and lips It is the thunder--seismic and roaring--quaking through these ears I am about to split Wide open A rupture--Thick and ill A wound--that has been desperate to spill Wide open Is this heart It will stomp its way to find its beat and learn to drum again You will hear it through its chest Calling to its lost land Heavy and perfect reaching for life and motion with sweat and blood dripping from its hands

Protocol (poem)

PROTOCOL

Protocol for Standard Return Options: Please follow the below instructions when handling returns. Do not deviate from the listed instructions as such deviations may result in unnecessary complications including, but not limited to, an increase in potential for further breakage and/or damage to return merchandise, heightened customer dissatisfaction, emotional outbursts, etc.

Common Reasons and/or Complaints Associated with Returns:
• too encrypted/too complicated
• misunderstandings/miscommunications
• contradictions
• lack of logic
• conflicting instructions
• discrepancies in initial expectations and subsequent results
• requirement of consistent maintenance and repair
• psychotic and/or neurotic displays
• incompatibility
• detection of inherent defects
• a bit more than what the customer bargained for/a little less than what the customer hoped for

Return Procedures
• Check merchandise for any bruises, cuts, scars and/or other wounds (Note: check not only the outside of the package but be sure to also examine the inside of the package, considering that often the outside of the package can be deceiving and appear initially unmarred. However, upon further examination, one may often find discreet but deep damage to the merchandise).

• In the case of extensive damage and/or breakage to merchandise, the store will accept the return, but be sure to thoroughly and accurately complete all paperwork, and inform the customer that future purchases and/or exchanges may be more complex and involved and may require more time and work. Repetitive and/or excessive returns and/or exchanges of damaged and/or broken merchandise may ultimately result in deactivation of account barring any future purchases for a minimum of 1 to 2 years. (You may find that certain customers will not care. He may mutter that he will just solicit the services of a different store and that all the merchandise is basically of the same quality no matter where you go and that one of these days he is going to find what he's looking for and that he doesn't care how many pieces of merchandise he has to go through before he finds what he is looking for).

WARNING: Do not inform customer that he will never find what he is looking for. Such dispense of unsolicited information may compromise your safety. If by accident you do inform the customer of this merchandise fact, you may have entered into imminent danger. Immediately remove yourself from the situation and call security.

• Otherwise, proceed with the return. If the customer expresses a desire to transfer the return into an exchange, refer to "Protocol for Exchange Options." (Usually, the customer will choose whatever looks best to him. Attempt, to the best of your ability, to encourage the customer to read thoroughly the product/merchandise information. Normally, however, the majority of customers prefer to stare at and handle the merchandise and exhibit a strong tendency to base their purchase decision on the handling and appearance of the merchandise. Most customers avoid even opening the product information. Store statistics indicate a minor reduction in the percentage of returns and exchanges among those customers who refer to the product information prior to making their purchase. However, if customer will not listen to you, simply move on).

• Once you have processed the return, make sure the customer has in his possession copies of all paperwork and all receipts.

• After you have finalized the transaction and have completed assisting the customer, place the merchandise back on display.

NOTE: If you detect any signs of excessive sobbing and/or wailing, you are advised to attach a muffler of the correct size (Sizes AAA through DDD are available) depending on the type of merchandise. (See size charts if you are not certain as to what size applies to the merchandise). Do not proceed to worry or fret, the merchandise will be fine. Do not attempt to comfort, appease or placate the merchandise. The merchandise will recover. Will learn to move on. Just give the merchandise time. Space. The merchandise will become silent. Again. We repeat, leave the merchandise alone. To the best of your ability, simulate ignorance, i.e, feign as though you do not hear or see or feel the merchandise. And the merchandise will get it. The merchandise will learn.

to never. hurt. again.