A wonderful friend of mine shared a poem with me this weekend. As I prepare/anticipate/freak out about the start of school in the fall, I need a bit of something to hold onto before the whirlwind starts. It was a great sedative for my anxiety about losing me in the midst of books, grades, and pace. Also, I read somewhere that Maya Angelou told her son once, when he was young, to find a poem, lock it within and it would get you through...This is going tobe mine.
The Blue Star
"Show me the place," he said.
I removed my shirt and pointed
to a tiny star above my heart.
He leaned and listened. I could feel
his breath falling lightly, flattening
the hairs on my chest. He turned
me around, and his hands gently
plied my shoulder blades and then rose
to knead the twin columns forming
my neck, "You are an athelete?"
"No," I said, "I'm a working man."
"And you make?" he said. "I make
the glare for light bulbs." "Yes,
where would we be without them?"
"In the dark." I hear the starched
dress of the nurse behind me,
and then together they helped me
lie face up on his table, where blind
and helpless I thought of all
the men and women who had surrendered
and how little good it had done them.
The nurse took my right wrist
in her strong hands, and I saw the doctor lean toward me,
a tiny chrome knife glinting in
one hand and tweezers in the other.
I could feel nothing, and then he said
proudly, "I have it!" and held up
the perfect little blue star, no longer me and now bloodless. "And do
you know what we have under it?""No," I said. "Another perfect star."
I closed my eyes, but the lights
still swam before me in a sea of golden fire. "What does it mean?"
"Mean?" he said, dabbing the place
with something cool and liquid,
and all the lights were blinking on
and off, or perhaps my eyes were
opening and closing. "Mean?" He said,
"It could mean this is who you are."
-Philip Levine
Following the poem, the author (not Levine) wrote of a friend who was about to start medical school and how she was goint to get the blue star mentioned in the Levine poem, b/c she too was an artist, poet to be exact, and feared just as I do, losing that self. How apt, right? The author argued with his friend, didn't understand why she'd do such a thing, as she'd be changed by this experience, and later might even be embarassed of the tatoo. She met his comments with her own, saying (something like) if she was in fact embarassed, years later when she saw the tattoo..then she should be b/c she never wanted to forget that she is an artist.
So this all inspired me to get a tattoo before school starts. It's too coincidental to not be the universe dropping hints. I think I know what it'll be, but where and when are undecided details. I'll keep you all posted--and will drop pics also.