when you look at words long enough, you realize they mean. i am.
—Neil, unpublished poem
he was peter
and i his wendy
telling stories
of horse rides with cranes
of nursing babies
of watering gardens
and petting cats
every story meant a thread
another way to say
see me
i am
sometimes i was peter
and he was my wendy
telling stories
of bowls of water
of light inside a moose
of the curve of space
and moving in circles
let’s pretend now, you are here
you can be peter or wendy
just lean close, please
feel this pulse of words
beating right here
between you and me
between time and time
[right now]
now now now
consider this my thread//his thread//our thread
my hand his hand your hand
r e a c h i n g
saying
see me i see you
i am we are
here
tell me a story
*91/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing a poem a day. All photos are mine.
This is such a beautiful and deeply moving piece. 🙏✨ I was especially touched by the idea of stories becoming threads—quiet ways of saying, “See me. I am.”
The Peter and Wendy imagery beautifully captures the reciprocity of connection: sometimes we tell stories so someone can see us, and sometimes we listen so another person knows they are seen. And that final reaching of hands across “time and time” feels incredibly powerful.
I’m so glad you liked this one as it’s very special to me and will probably be in the poetry book I’m hoping to publish in December/January. It’s a tribute of sorts to Neil, but also it’s about the ways we connect through words, and what we leave behind. Thank you for the kind comment.
It is a marvellous piece of visual poetry. Perhaps it was the mention of the horse ride, but once it entered my head, I could almost feel the words rocking and swaying down the page. Then another shape took over. A thread, wandering through memories, passing from Peter to Wendy, from I to you, until the separate voices and hands begin reaching for one another. I loved how “see me / i am” eventually becomes “i see you / we are / here.”
As if all those stories were, in the end, different ways of saying: I am here; come a little closer.
Thank you! This poem is directly related to my friend and poet, Neil, and in a style I think he’d really have liked. I don’t often do poems in shapes, but I had a lot of fun with this one.
Yes, that’s a Neil poem for sure. But you’re peeking out all over. Done him proud!