Hero's Poetry Journey, week 12

RETURN: Refusal of Return

Hello, Poetry Friend

Way, way back at the beginning of this Hero’s Poetry Journey, we heroes refused the call. Now it’s time to go home, and we’re refusing the return.

We never learn, do we?

Refusal of Return

Earlier we talked about Odysseus/Ulysses, the hero whose journey home is the story of Homer’s The Odyssey. Imagine the reluctance our hero feels:

He’s changed. Has his wife, Penelope, changed too? Does she still love him? Does his son, Telemachus, even remember him? How hard is it going to be to re-establish himself? (He’s heard all about the suitors shacking up at his place.) After making a name for himself in war, more than a few goddesses and ladies have expressed interest in our hero. Maybe he should stay. Maybe he should refuse to return.

For me, this refusal has taken the form of, Let’s just not pretend I’m a mother at all, okay? Let’s pretend Mother’s Day doesn’t exist.

Motherhood: Rejection of

That was my tactic for a solid decade. When the Marvel Universe was new and exciting, I’d go to the movies on the second Sunday of May and call the holiday Avenger’s Day. But even before the MCU spun out into infinity , the paradigm no longer worked for me. I needed a new kit, so to speak.

There is a very good episode of Ted Lasso called “Mom City,” in which (cussing alert!) a couple of characters distill the tension in their relationship with a parent into Fuck You / Thank You. F You for the ways you hurt me; Thank You for the person I became because of you.

I made peace with my parents before each of them died, so I’ve worked through this dichotomy from that angle. But I suspect my children might need to work through theirs with me. If they did want to have the kind of conversation Ted has with his mom, would resist my temptation to hide. I would not refuse a difficult return.

Just so happens, there’s a poem for that. A poem by a different Ted — Ted Kooser.

For their power to unstick writers block, I always recommend Kooser’s weather poems from Winter Morning Walks: one hundred postcards to Jim Harrison. But which one did I need for my own refusal? How about the one for my birthday, “january 29.”

“january 29” by Ted Kooser

Things look bleak as the poem opens, over in the “rutted black field by the road.” Hedge trees have been bulldozed and stacked for burning. They’re dead but not disintegrated. No reason for them to press on, right?

“but the trees / are resisting”

There isn’t much the trees can do, but they do it. They do it until it is clear “that there is a good deal more wind / in the pile than wood, more tree / than fallen tree.” And in that emptiness, “the sparrows / fly in and out, still singing.” If the trees stopped resisting, there would be less space, less wind, fewer birds, less song.

There’s no guarantee that your return or mine return will end in a happily ever after. Perhaps these trees will be burned into ashes after all. Perhaps there will be no F You / Thank You that closes the story arc with a fulfilling ending. But there will be sparrows, if we give them room.

Poetry Journal

• Read Kooser’s poem. Jot down what you notice, what you like, what you don’t, what questions you have, and at least one way in which the poem speaks to your soul.

• Write a poem about the weather outside right now that connects with your experience of motherhood.

• Read Kooser's poem aloud. Pick one phrase or line or stanza you can tuck deep in your heart.

• Write your own haiku about this stage of your hero’s poetry journey. (Mine is at meganwillome.com.) If you like, email me what you write.

Happy Poeming!

Megan