Will it? / It will

‘It will’ is an ekphrastic poem; ekphrastic poetry is poetry written based off a work of art. This piece was inspired based off the painting ‘Will it?’ by artist, Izaiah Miller. I love art because it can be interpreted differently by each viewer, just as poetry transforms and morphs based on the reader.

While it’s been a minute since work has been published on this site, I’m thrilled to be sharing this poem along with Izaiah’s complex and rich painting. The full painting is the first image below, with some of my favorite detail shots following the poem.

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“Will It?”, painting by Izaiah Miller.

It will

by Regan Smith

• • •

It will get better, 
these sound waves
bounce off my skull, 
never seeming to sink in, 
no matter how many times 
it’s been said to me. 

It will get better, 
Will it?

I feel torn in so
many directions;
nothing feels safe, 
and confusion seems 
to be the only constant. 

Every thought is an enigma, 
burdening, swarming, pulling; 
I don’t know which way to turn. 

Any attempt I make to
determine a direction 
towards growth, towards life, 
is thwarted; I’m on a leash
that extends only as far as my
thoughts allow me to be. 

But I have one foundational truth 
that flickers into my line of sight
from time to time–that the dark will always
try to choke out the light; for it knows that
once light enters in, the space transforms. 

So I lean into this direction–
taking a chance on the belief
that things will get better. 

It will get better, 
it will get better, 
it will get better. 

But I’m immediately met with: 

Will it?
Will it?
Will it?

Things start to become more
tumultuous, toxic thoughts cycle
faster, quicker, swelling and swarming
to a claustrophobic state. 

I see the pattern–
dark thoughts seeing a sliver of light, 
threatening their home, so they try 
and fight back with more chaos. 

But I take the weapon of intention, 
and kill these thoughts that made
up my past self–revolting against them, 
telling them that they have no home here. 

The chaos starts to settle, 
as the light begins to leak in, 
and any residual darkness dissipates. 

And standing in the rubble 
of my past mindsets, I look up, 
realizing I’ve lost everything that 
use to occupy my mind; and with a
clean canvas, I’m met with all that matters: 

An overwhelming peace, 
a moment of stillness, 

and power over my thoughts.

Prolonged Solitude

Jumping straight into the poetry, followed by a personal note.

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Prolonged Solitude

by Regan Smith

• • •

Prolonged Solitude is the only one
who has created such a space to where
my claustrophobic subconscious can 
finally take a deep breath, reach out and 
pen itself to paper. 

Prolonged Solitude has given me 
revelations and understandings of myself 
in ways I’ve never known before; 
she’s honest and kind and has 
kept me accountable. 

Her silent words have shown me 
myself in raw and uncomfortable ways; 
where I realize that I’ve been storing
shattered glass in my side–only 
now my eyes aren’t too busy to 
see it, my hands aren’t too busy to help, 
and where I can alleviate and heal. 

I’ve mistaken her before, long ago
when we weren’t well acquainted. 
I mistook her as an enemy–
and thought I responded with 
purposeful neglect, but when I numbed
her out, it was because I was screaming, 
trying to fill the void which would 
only leave me with a sore throat and 
a messy mind. I inaccurately 
attributed that character to her. 

For while she’s a quiet friend–
one who says few words–
those few words are pure wisdom, 
always bringing me back to myself, 
to still my self, to slow my thoughts; 
and for that, I thank you, 
Prolonged Solitude. 

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While I still work during the week remotely and spend a lot of time with Ricky, this pandemic has brought on a great deal of solitude, as I’m sure many others are experiencing. As an introvert, I adore being alone–I truly get so much energy out of it. But there’s a point to where I exceed my introversion tanks and start retreating inward. I go deep, deep into my thoughts and truly get lost. I start to lose touch with reality for I’ve ventured so deeply into this secret land that only I can see. I begin to take every thought with a thousand tons of gravity, chasing it back to origin, and can’t find my way back. It’s such an interesting concept to share but truly I become so distracted with my thoughts that I have a difficult time focusing on really anything. I start feeling anxious since I don’t feel grounded.

To counteract, I’ve been spending more time in meditation and prayer, writing and setting myself a structured schedule to continue to write and create. This has been a true blessing these past few weeks. 

During these efforts, I partook in a guided writing exercise to help bring forth my subconscious to paper. To simply see it and allow more clarity in my mind. The activity was to write a letter to someone. I chose to write a letter to my present-day self. To be even more vulnerable, I found that through this exercise, I have been harboring hate subconsciously against myself. The letter was so incredibly encouraging and uplifting–speaking against the inadequacy that I had felt. 

I didn’t realize until after the ink dried that I had been in an ongoing struggle with feeling inadequate, a slave to growth, an imposter to all. 

While I can’t control this terrible circumstance that we’re all in, I’m so incredibly thankful for this season of solitude. I’m not sure how much longer I would have gone before I recognized the hurt that I was holding. I don’t have many answers to this, but I know what the truth says about me. 

I know that I am empowered, and out of the abundance of that is my growth. 
I know that I am strong, and out of the abundance of that is the encouragement I give. 
I know that I am fully loved, and out of the abundance of that I’m able to love others. 
I know that I am on the right track, for when I’m not, I’m always guided back.

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Note (Poem)

Today’s poem is written by our guest author, Tyler. This poem’s imagery completely envelops me, a mental vacation. I hope you can read this poem while sipping in some of the evening’s sunbeams.

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Note

by Tyler Mortensen-Hayes

• • •

—Have you noticed, friends, how amazing it is
that a sunflower contains itself inside
itself, like somebody you love but could never touch;
how it allows itself, come fall, to turn brown
& droop into nothing, though not before spitting
out the miraculous little clusters of sunlight
that have hardened into its seeds, spreading
over the damp garden where congregations of birds
& squirrels & my own two hands gobble them up,
filling with the nourishment of something that,
just weeks ago, did not even exist; & sometime later
all of those seeds—forgive me for mentioning it—
spill out & rejoin everything that remains uneaten
& buried, under leaves or wet earth, waiting the whole long
hazy winter until, clever things, they grow into sunflowers,
& how impossible to witness this again & again,
year after year, & to always take part, always eating
& growing from what rises so softly, so wordlessly,
from the earth, how lucky we are, dearest friends, to be here.

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Tyler is a poet, located in Salt Lake City, a bustling place known for its erratic climate and proximity to vast wildernesses. He once had a friend who told him, “You poets take the weather so personally!” in which Tyler thought–”Why yes, don’t you?”

Brandi

This is a poem that’s a part of the Sister Series, a series of celebrating individual women and sharing their beauty through poetry. This poem is titled, Brandi, after a sunshine of a soul.

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brandi

by Regan Smith

• • •

Her thoughts are a garden, 
exposing a glorious song. 

During the day, she diligently sows seeds
and during nighttime she draws her flowers: 
the Black-Eyed Susan, White Wood Aster, 
the myriad of Goldenrod blooms. 

She wrangles snakes, pulling them 
out of her garden, grasping their bodies 
right behind the eyes; she holds no fear–
for although she’s been bitten before, 
familiar to the feeling of poison in her skin–

she now holds authority, victory over all: 
depression turned to dreams, 
anxiety turned to assurance, 
her thoughts now at full bloom.

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Metamorphosis

I’ve recently noticed that social media has evoked a lot of its users to promote being stagnant or unchanging. I want to encourage you to partake in healthy rest and seasons of patient pauses, but to continue in the velocity of internal growth or the pursuit of it. With that, this string of consciousness was born: Metamorphosis.

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You don’t need a sign to awaken and self reflect to want to rebirth from your present self and remain in a state of humility becoming a patiently learning larva that sheds its skin through the consumption of truth to build yourself a hidden chrysalis where you grow without all eyes watching and the world may see you as dormant but you’re growing wings and will emerge with an undeniable transformation and you don’t need a sign to encourage this growth in another or to make this metamorphosis cyclical within yourself

Eternal Rest

Moving into 2020, I’ve heard a plethora of resolutions related to taking a moment to breathe and be. To stop striving and working in a way that leads to burnout. This beautiful poem came right when I needed it.

Peyton Elise is the newest contributor to this collective, a bright and beautiful spirit. Her words and her heart always leave me feeling seen, at home, and reflective.

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eternal rest

by Peyton Elise

• • •

you know, 
the more i think about eternity
the more my mind settles. 
i think that it’s a constant battle within
that leaves us reckless. 
sometimes our own mind 
talks us into abandoning 
what is true. 
and the little false seeds
try to lay down in our bed of soil,
but they aren’t meant to grow there. 
we were created for an eternal purpose,
and that should bring us so much rest.
striving is such a stronghold,
and it creates nothing but the feeling of failure,
and lost hope.

so if you’re feeling a little weary today,
if you’re second guessing every little thought,
if your anxiety is riling up, 
or if you feel the slightest bit overwhelmed —
take heart in knowing that 
you were made for something much greater.
and because you were made for it,
you are just enough...
and you can rest in that.

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Photo also provided by Peyton Elise.