Various poems by Ann H. (plural poetry, 1985-1986)

[lb_lee]

Metadata: These poems were published in Vol. 1, No. 4 of the multiple personality newsletter Speaking for Our Selves, from June 1986. The sole surviving record of that newsletter that I can find is this non-screenreadable PDF, so I decided to textually transcribe Ann H.'s multi poetry for posterity. Some of it still rings clear today!

I CALLED YOU (1-30-1986)

I called you
again.
In effect
you said
I am a pest.
Your words
coil and spring.
Do you think
I like feeling
that desperate?


I HAVE NO ARMS (11-8-1985)

I have no arms
To work with,
Throw with,
Hug with.
These are pawned.
I can't own.

I have no legs
To be grounded with,
Run with,
Hide with.
These are borrowed,
Never owned.

I have no mouth
to eat with,
Scream with,
Ask with.
Its loss
Keeps me alone.

I have no body
To live with,
Play with,
Love with.
This was stolen,
I pretend I own.

I have no space
To heal with,
To be with--
Just to be with.
Never was it mine alone.

What you see are
Dead illusions,
No feeling,
Hallucinations.
All was given, stolen;
I don't own.
I have no arms
but frail illusions.
What do you own?


YOU RAN AWAY (12-5-1985)

Mother--
Your ran away,
Into alcohol, self-neglect and death

Father--
You ran away,
Into your garage, alcohol and suicide.

Brother--
You are running away,
Into hallucinations,
Endless schemes to avoid the pain.

Relatives, friends, neighbors, teachers, priests--
You ran away,
Pretending not to see, doing nothing.

As I feel the pain
It takes to change
I almost don't begrudge
your running.
But I hate you
For me being
The first family member
Trying so hard
Not to run away.


PREOCCUPIED (2-25-1986)
A friend said
it sounds like
I'm dying
again and again.
There are many ways
to die every day.
Maybe that's why
I'm preoccupied
with death.


WHY DIG UP THE PAST? (12-9-1985)

People like to think
The past is dead.
No. Its bones
Are stuck in my throat.
I must dig them out,
Give them proper burial.


MAGIC GRAB BAG (11-24-1985)

Mother, father, brother,
Teacher, everyone;
Reach into the
Magic Grab Bag--
Pull out a person.
(Never mind their screams.)
Whom do you need?
What do you want me to be?
There's an endless variety,
A person for every whim,
Every need.
If you're not satisfied,
Just wait a little longer;
I'm sure there'll
Be a new one.
All come with a
Thirty day,
Money back guarantee.


MY SISTER AND I (2-16-1986)
My sister and I
talk in our heads.
It's not safe
to talk out loud
or for both of us
to be seen
at the same time.
I'm not supposed to have friends
and my mother
would kill her.


MY FRIEND, IN PEACE AND LOVE (12-5-1985)
My friend,
I asked if
when we both are dead,
My people can be with
Your people, your family,
In peace and love.
You said yes.
What a gift!
There is no better:
To finally have a place,
Be with others who
Know us deeply,
Accept us deeply--
All in peace and love.

You asked me
Not to go before you.
I will try, I will try.
It is such a painful struggle
To try so hard,
So long--
Not for riches or pleasure--
Just to live.
I think that only you
Know how hard it is.

Hearing your struggles
To live, just to live,
I ask the same of you:
Please do not go
Before me.

I know this
Is a fantasy.
I believe when you're dead,
You are dead.
But if the universe is
Kind enough to have
A God or whatever
That will grant us
A peaceful hereafter,
Then I know
I shall also be granted
To be with you
And your family:
"And your people
Shall be my people,"
All in peace and love.