Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Deleted (AR)




Pulled for submission


9 comments:

jennifer zobair said...

It's like coming home.

You, Sarah, poet like few others.

I am stuck on this: "We are the only backward-looking, forward driven creatures of nature."

Does it help us?

I wonder.

For me, fall has always had that crisp feeling of possibility that I think I still associate with the return to college. The smell of autumn air takes me to that "place" in a heartbeat--it is some almalgam of football games (though I went to a women's college!) late nights with friends, a carefree exuberance where everything was still possible and nothing had been truly carved yet.

It is nostalgia, however fleeting.

This is beautiful. Thank you for posting it.

Sarah Hina said...

I'm not sure whether it helps or hurts or (probably) does both. I suppose it's all about balance. Treasuring the past, reflecting on the lessons and memories we value most, while not feeling it drag or weigh on our present and future.

I'm always drawn to the bittersweet. I think there's something contradictory about autumn, and people too. As I grow older, I tend to slightly favor fall to spring.

And yes, I feel that sense of "place" more with autumn than any other season, just like you do. Maybe my nostalgia falls a little younger than yours, though. Halloween, pumpkin carving, playing after school in the leaves...ahhh. Being a parent adds another layer of memory, of course.

Thank you for your beautiful comments. Always.

sarah said...

Beautiful indeed.

So many lines in which I found myself.

Thanks for this.

Charles Gramlich said...

Backward looking, forward driven. how true. Never really thought of it in so many words before. But very interesting.

Susan Deborah said...

"So that even as sunshine slides down my sleeve"

The above line struck a chord. How well you craft your words. Good to see you after a long time.

Thanks for this.

Joy always,
Susan

Aniket Thakkar said...

Okay, I think I need a drink now. (No not Mountain Dew, a real drink.

"Players on an infant stage, not knowing such scenes would grow heavier with replay" How, just how, you come up with these is beyond me...

I'll have to look for a much stronger word than 'gifted' to introduce you to anyone.

I hereby hire you to write and recite stuff for my marriage, obituary and everything that comes in between.

Ok, bye. Time to re-read this thing.

Sarah Hina said...

Sarah, thank you for the wonderful comment.

Charles, I'm usually spinning in circles.

Susan Deborah, so good to see you again. Thank you!

Aniket, come on. I'm going to drop off before you do. But your wedding? Sure thing. So long as I have a front row seat.

Wendy said...

One thing I love about this piece is how you span so much that's generational in it. (My interpretation at least.) You have the "now" of the narrator, but reference the grandparents and get playful with the leaf jumping, too. It's all wrapped in nicely.

As always, you have a way with words that is entirely YOU and entirely fabulous.

Sarah Hina said...

Thanks, Wendy. I think this one was sparked by a dream of my dead grandma. So you're quite right to pull that all together.

One of these days, I'm going to write a straightforward poem. One of these days...