Skip to main content

RENTED BODY by Janavi Held


Editor's note: This poem has received a nomination for the 2023 Pushcart Prize: 

Rented Body

by Janavi Held

 

I live uneasily 

in my rented body

wondering when

the surrogate season 

of shadows will pass.

Perishable memories ­­

I have clutched 

within this rented vessel;

so many forsaken treasures 

slip like blinded angels 

through the atoms ­­

of my rented jail.

They do not land on rock;

they come from my bones 

like a hurricane, 

as my rented flesh is uplifted 

by hunger and money 

as the two parts 

of my soul search for eyes, 

for the waterfall, 

for the forget-me-nots 

to thaw the frozen atmosphere of tears, 

for the pale cathedral of doubt 

to replace its dead shadow 

with a constant heart.

In my rented body

I climb titanic,

twisting stairs, 

casting my own shadow 

on the torn remnants 

of these days,

and mortal fibers, 

I’ve torn them 

from my rented heart, 

those gentle atoms

living as the symbol

of silence, 

of forever, 

of the Master 

of all destroyed things.


~This poem originally appeared in Whispers from Her Deathbed 

published with Golden Dragonfly Press. June 3, 2022~


Photographic Artistic Collage by the poet, Janavi Held
Photographic Artistic Collage by the poet, Janavi Held 


Janavi Held (1965-2018) was a soulful dancer, artist, poet, photographer and yogini that was suddenly struck with an incurable illness in her forties, and spent the last five years of her life bedridden, writing poems. During that time, Janavi published her first poetry collection Letters to my Oldest Friend: A Book of Poetry and Photography, and had two of her poems shortlisted for the prestigious Hamilton House International Poetry Prize awarded by the University Centre Grimsby, and published in their anthology "Eternal." Janavi also contributed poems to two poetry anthologies, Bhakti Blossoms: A Collection of Contemporary Vaishnavi Poetry and GODDESS: When She Rules: Expressions by Contemporary Women. After a carefree childhood of writing poetry and wandering around with her father’s camera, Janavi dedicated herself to practicing Bhakti Yoga at age nineteen.She held a bachelor’s degree from Goddard College where she studied poetry, photography, and media studies. Janavi passed away at the age of 53 in Colorado, leaving behind a voluminous oeuvre spanning across various mediums of expression.Some of her poems have been compiled into a posthumous poetry collection "Whispers From Her Deathbed" (Golden Dragonfly Press, 2022). You may read more of her poems and view her artwork on her website www.janaviheld.com 

*For submission guidelines, click here.*

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without