Arella Tomlinson
Writing
Platinum Award Winner
Petal
Collage & acrylic on paper mounted on wood - 10 x 10 inches - 2015
Petal
A routine self-screening was slightly askew,
But when I called it in, I wasn’t expecting this.
This.
To be called and told that I have it,
To be called out to join
One in eight American women. I thought,
Can I step back in line and wake up
And this never will have happened?
And this the same day that my baby crawled for the first time.)
Oh, soft petal…
Its spring
Yet I fear that You, precious new (& so close to my heart)
Will be plucked away.
I feel picked
To walk the plank
As if scaffolds of cold steel are rising up around me
Squeezing me onto a grid
Editing Me out
Filtering fleshiness to replace with fear.
It feels like
The Lump
Is in my throat.
If only I could swallow it back down.
Fear 2
Collage & acrylic on paper mounted on wood - 10 x 10inches - 2015
Fear
The surface of my skin appears so still
No ripples, intact.
So how can it be that it will be
Breached
And (if it could be felt) like Some Unspeakable Invasion
And a part of me, the lump, removed?
And do I want them wide (or would I rather keep) all my Margins?
An untenable compromise must be reached,
Myself agreeing, for the first time,
To be utterly powerless
In someone else’s hands
Which may be skilled,
But nevertheless, are holding a knife.
Surrounded by offers of support
And yet I still feel
Like a defenseless creature, even without bones
On an Island.
My own hand (and maybe the Divine?) reaches down
Gentle, cupping
To steady this storm
And it works, partially.
But cleaning and rubbing the preparatory solution on my body,
I still wonder,
Will I see myself on the other side?