Emily Vogel
poetry
Never Get Caught Telling the Truth I wanted to show you where I go when I disappear like a body into the woods, myself like a version of myself in the third person- the deluges of sunlight awash upon the pond, and the secret place between the trees where the path diverges in three directions, how the Spirits are constant- cajole me toward the one that leads to the bridge and then more deeply into a darker space- where there are planks buttressing the path, until I’m just in the middle of nowhere- somewhere ages and ages away- whatever makes difference from difference- and because no one is around, I can lie down in the terrain, or a smattering of autumn leaves, or in the summer, when there is grass, all glowing in a haze, and it might tickle my cheeks, as I close my eyes, or breathe my gaze upward to the sky beyond the threshold of the trees…I wanted to tell you that he got away with it, and not just him…but there were others too. When I arrived there and stood in front of the entry-point, where the Aum in me dwells like a low hum- there was a sign that read Danger: Walking on the ice is strictly forbidden. I wanted to show you that place and tell you all about the things I can’t say- you know, the stuff no one wants to believe- like for instance, my 13-year-old daughter smashed her fists through windows, on my behalf, as well as her own- and she couldn’t tell me why. They call this autism. But perhaps it was her modus superstes- the animal instinct of the wounded? We just don’t talk about that stuff. And of course, I thought about walking on the ice anyway- but I didn’t want to get caught.

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Wow. So strong. As middle aged woman I can make a book of what I've endured and witnessed living in a female body, and as mom to a spectrum daughter this especially resonated.