If you are reading this, you have survived
Another day of struggle and travail
Another fiendish plot, darkly contrived
Another bill deferred to no avail
You have escaped another plague most foul
Endured another war waged by mad fools
Though you did shiver, hearing wild beasts howl
You found refuge, and followed stringent rules
Though safety has an inflated, vile cost
And you must do a boring job to eat
You are not yet counted among the lost
And you might live to your smug boss defeat
Whatever else, survivors we all are
Let's recognize each other, near or far
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from D. J. Reddall and writers in Poets and other communities.
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 10 hours ago in Poets
Feelings Never Die
It is Valentine's Day again, and it bought back memories that were over fifty years old. It bought me back to 1971, and I woke up and I knew my baby was due today. I was big and pregnant, and I felt like I was about to burst wide open. Imagine my surprise when the doctor told my I had a due date of February 14. I couldn't believe it, and since my baby was due today, I felt I could indulge myself a bit. I had gained a lot of weight, and chocolate was on the no-no list, but I had came to the end of this pregnancy, and I hoped it would be okay, after all I would deliver this baby today. So I walked across the street to the grocery story, and bought myself, a peppermint patty, covered in chocolate, my favorite. Me and my Valentine's baby would enjoy it together.
By Susan Payton3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
Really liked the message in this! We’re all waging our own battles or weathering our own storms
This is such a great expression of solidarity- gorgeous word choice and a stellar theme. Thank you for sharing this genuinely encouraging piece, D.J.!
Yes, we are survivors, and have something to celebrate. Thanks for helping us with this perspective.
A poignant reminder of our shared resilience in the face of life's trials. loved your poem.
Round of applause, take a bow, sir. This is powerful and poetic in all the best ways and I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiments. Well done and thank you for sharing such an inspiring piece! Each day we get through, we are the survivors and I think everyone should take a beat and appreciate that of themselves!
I barely made it to today...seeing and reading this sure helped a whole heck of a lot, just what the doc ordered to start the day.
Today has been a difficult day so far and it's just 3.18pm for me. I just want this day to be over. I know I'll survive but... Loved your poem!
This comment has been deleted