Snow Storm: Steam-Boat off a Harbour's Mouth

by J. M. W. Turner (1775-1851)

THE CLAIM*

Sailors,

tie me

to the mast,

so I may be

at the eye

of the storm.

Let me be

lashed about

for hours

in the blizzard

and squall.

Let me abandon

all hope.

And, if I

survive,

let me be bound 

to the storm again—

but this time

to tell its story,

to paint it.

* Inspired by J. M. W. Turner's claim, that he made the above painting after being tied to the mast of the steamboat, “Ariel,” during a storm at sea.

THE WOUND

Like a mouth

it will speak.

If you listen

it will tell you

the story

of its

origin.

But the seal,

the seam

must break

to tell it,

and in the telling

secrets and shame

are bound 

to escape. The wound

will cut, scar you

if you let it, if you try

to reason with it.

So don’t. It can’t

hear you, anyway.

It’s a mouth,

remember?

Just listen. Keep

silent and safe.

THE CONTORTIONIST

The warped mirror—

anything before it is

unrecognizable

to itself.

Oh, but the shapes

you can make:

the faces,

contortions,

all alluring,

bewitching.

Distortion is

the glass’s magic,

its spell—the web

that attracts and captures.

The longer you remain

transfixed within

its frame

and a curiosity

to yourself, posing

and bending,

chances are

you’ll end up

in the circus

and never

know how 

you got there.

THE TIGHT ROPE

How much room

is there really

on the rope?

If you walk it

like a grievance

then there is only

room for you

and the injury

you carry.

You may make

the crossing

but you will

end up

on other side

alone.

Why not find 

a better partner

than misery

to join you on the jaunt,

to make the passage more

like a high-wire dance?

And why not let

forgiveness be

the tenuous ground

you are traversing?

It just may add 

more pluck and grace

to your step

and make you 

less likely to fall

for gravity's 
dizzying sway.