Promises: A reflection

Circumstance. And something new.

Spoken rendition of “Promises”.

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Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann

Process

Promises was written in February of 2023 and edited a year later. I do not recall the specifics of writing the original poem, and I will not pretend to be a fiction writer (I leave that to the great minds of Nathan Slake and Claudia Befu), so this reflection will be light on the process of writing the specific poem.

Instead, I want to reflect on collaboration.

I have been participating in a “challenge” run by Elle Griffen, author of “The Elysian” (a wonderful Substack that explores what a more beautiful future could look like through utopian fiction and thought experiment). On its face, this challenge is about growing one’s readership, but more poetically it is about stretching one’s view of their work. Most of the focus has been on how to “pitch” creative work to others, whether just letting people you know about your work and asking them to read along, or thinking about ways you can collaborate with other artists in a way that expands who comes across your art. Like most, I want my work to resonate with others, and it is exciting to see when that happens with new subscribers that just happen to discover the work. What I am learning is that to actively pursue new subscribers is actually a work in believing that what you offer to the world is worth someone’s time, that it is valuable, and that it is making the world a more whole place. This belief is a necessary precursor in taking the vulnerable step of asking someone to read what you have written, and even more so, to offer to work hand in hand to create a project together.

I follow a couple of poets (Man of Aran is a great example) that pair poetry with art or use art as the inspiration for their poetry. This approach felt like a small step forward that I could take towards collaboration. I put a brief offer on Substack Notes to ask if there were any artists who would be interested in collaborating. Dominique Jahn sent me a short message (“I have some drawings”….so short and to the point!)  expressing her interest in working together, so we began an exchange that produced the collaboration around Promises. I sent her my poem, and it resonated enough with her that she agreed this would be a good piece to work from.

A few days later, Dominique sent me the drawing of this hand. I immediately felt how this piece powerfully spoke into the poem, and also felt the way the poem powerfully responded to the art.  

Promises, art by Dominique Jahn

The effort to collaborate between poem and art opened a new idea in me that is quickly becoming a new arm of Poetry & Process. Read to the end of this newsletter for more on this new side, titled An exchange!

Themes

Promises explores themes of choice and consequence, expectation and disappointment, and an honest look at circumstance through images of journey and color.

So long the wait. 

You do not have the faintest memory
of what vibrant is,
your mind obscured and murky gray,
midnight blacks are your noon
and brown is the field you walk through,
bare feet through deep cold
and not sinking
only because you continue.

The first two stanzas describe a place that that has been transformed from a place of beauty to a place of challenge. What was vibrant is now bland. Waiting stands alongside memory, and we can feel the desire to escape the present situation, whether to move forward to what this individual is waiting for, or to return to a more beautiful time.

There is no easier path
that leads from this trudge point.
Your choice was to come this way,
but this way 
was not supposed to be
this way.

The next stanza acknowledges the predicament. Whatever the desire was, there is no way to return to the time where they made their choice or to move forward to where they would prefer to be without working through this situation. It is layered with resentment as they arrived at this place through unintended consequences.

A promise was promised to you.
An expansive ever blue,
a clear horizon to move towards,
a soft field of wildflowers,
bird song and beauty.
You chose this 
way of ease and circumstance,
not the fearsome forest climb 
with a horizon
shrouded by switchbacks,
boulders and difficulty.

Here, we see the choice they were confronted with during an earlier time, an easy stroll or a difficult hike. This appeared to be a black and white choice, and of course when faced with these options they chose the way that most would, the direction that appeared welcoming.

This stanza adds an additional layer to the poem. We see that this picture was not one that was painted by this person’s own expectations, but something they were handed by another, a promise that was made that does not appear to be materializing.

The truth beneath your gaze,
circumstance swept away by circumstance

swept away by circumstance.

The image that I picture here is one who looks out and sees in their mind what they were hoping to experience, but the truth is below their gaze in the muck they stand in and the violent wind they trudge through. I picture a place that changes with the seasons, a natural movement from color and warmth to monochrome and cold, one month giving way to the next.

This is what
the promiser refused, 
this hot coal
that slipped through their fingers,
you cradle in the middle of your overlayed palms.
It burns you something terrible, 
tears come to your eyes,
eyes that gaze deep into the shimmering glow,
tears that pour and turn to steam,
eyes closed that peer inward
and see life-giving warmth
permeating from your hands throughout your being,
your hands, your chest, your feet,
and your blown open mind.

With eyes open
you watch that fierce ember burn orange 
to red to black
and place it softly in the field
by the first 
fire-yellow crocus
of spring.

The last two stanzas shift from an outward view to a close, inward gaze. Our protagonist encounters and holds a lesson that the promiser refused, and one that I personally am having to learn time and again. Circumstance and outcome is not in our control. This wisdom is a hot coal in the hand that first burns, then warms and transforms. Only after this person is changed can they notice the first sign of life they were seeking in the flower at their feet.

In reflecting on the art produced by Dominique, I see many points of view from this one hand. I see the hand of one who is reaching for what they are seeking and what they expect. I see the hand extending an offer of wisdom and guidance to another that is rooted in their experience, without the understanding that the one they offer to must go through their own journey. I see the hand that was touched by the coal but dropped it at the first sign of pain. And I see the hand that held the coal for every lesson it offered, and only after the coal burned from orange to red to black did they let it fall to the earth.

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An exchange: A collaborative announcement

In closing, and in spirit of collaboration, I announce a new arm of Poetry & Process titled An exchange.

The idea is simple. Two artists explore a topic they have picked together through an exchange of their artistic medium. Once the topic is chosen, I write a poem about an aspect of the topic and send the completed work to the other artist. They use their own medium to respond to the first piece and to expand the exploration of the topic in a way that interests them. That piece is sent back to me, where I write another poem taking the exploration further, and so on. This back-and-forth exchange will continue for approximately six total works, that will then be published one day at a time over the course of a week on Poetry & Process and the other artists newsletter or platform.

The first Exchange is well underway. I am working with poet and artist Jason McBride to explore the topic of Community. I look forward to sharing this project with you in the near future!

If you have interest in being part of An exchange, please email or DM me. I’m looking for other creative individuals such as poets, essayists, novelists, artists, painters, musicians, or for my business minded friends, spreadsheeters (ok, that may be a stretch). The point is, if you have a creative modality that you think could fit this idea, reach out to me!

Thank you for being here. May you hold all things lightly.

Brian

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If you missed the original “A Poem” post of Promises, I hope you will read and enjoy!

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