My poetry sisters and I have a larger poem-project underway but we need to kick that can down the road a bit. So, for December, we decided on a list poem using at least 2 of the following words: paper, stars, messages, promises, dirt, flour, rum, hope. Here’s mine!
Commitment
By Liz Garton Scanlon
When you’re on a mission
to Mars, you pack carefully
You take every tchotchke, every
dimestore paperback and sugar spoon,
every message written in invisible ink
You take promises dug from dirt,
mixed with flour and water,
cooked and cooled
You take it all, because once you’ve gone
there’s no hope of going back
to get what you’ve forgotten
And here are the others:
Laura
Tanita
Sara
Kelly
Tricia
Andi
Poetry Friday’s being hosted over at Elizabeth Steinglass’ blog!
Enjoy, and happy Friday!
Ohhhhh. Having spent a good day last weekend at the Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, space travel has been on my mind this week. Love this poem and how it reminds me that our very mobile world today is much like space travel. We often can’t go back, because the things/places/people we left there have moved on, too! I don’t want to take every tchotchke, but I DO want to take everything that matters. In my heart, if not physically. Thanks, Liz!
Ha! totally not what I expected. Going to Mars, I’m thinking, I would have to pack light. Never thought of taking it all! Of course, as a poet, one would. 🙂
Liz, one of my favorite SF books is Kim Stanley Robinson’s MARS trilogy. Your poem reminded me of those books. It’s the promises that echo and reverberate for me — in your poem and in the thought of life on another planet.
What a gorgeous, gorgeous illustration. And, leave it to you to use the two words I found the hardest, dirt and flour!!!
Every time I look at those early shuttles, I hyperventilate a bit, realizing how little space for BODIES they had, much less tchotchkes. Human beings NEED their stuff… which is why I agree with your poem — the voyage to Mars is going to take a little more thought, and a bit larger of a space ship!
I love the details you’ve included to symbolize Everything: “every tchotchke, every / dimestore paperback and sugar spoon.” They made me think of how my mother has downsized from a big house to a small apartment to a room in an assisted living facility yet is still surrounded by comforting, familiar things. I got chills when I read the final lines.
I agree. Not what I was expecting either and that’s what I love most about it.
Thanks for this magical poem filled with small mementos that mean so much Liz–and I’ll take your “promises dug from dirt.”
Rebecca wants to go to Mars…AND she’s a packrat, so I feel this poem was made for her. Your words are lovely and vast and slightly lonely, and just…WOW.
I love that this poem makes me wonder what I would take if I knew I wouldn’t be returning. Even though you’ve written about Mars, I found myself thinking about all those folks fleeing from wildfires and wondering what they took and why.
Thanks for this lovely poem, and for giving us such lovely words to work with.
I love this – there’s nothing like leaving and not coming back to focus your attention on what’s really dear to you.