Chronology of Photographs, In Words

I am currently reading Pat Schneider's book, "Writing Alone and with Others." One of the writing prompts she provides is to bring up a mental image (or an actual photograph) and begin writing with "In this one you are..."

The following poem is what I came up with. In my "real" version of it, I played with the formatting and I like it better than I can present it here. (Darn you, Blogger, for limiting my creativity and stifling my style!) I changed the orientation of the paper to be horizontal and the three stanzas are in side-by-side columns. The entire poem then fits on one page. Some of the same lines then even line up across the paper, and that's pretty nifty. It kind of gives a physical demonstration of the meaning I want the poem to have, too, which makes me feel like a real writer. It also makes me feel unnecessarily obsessive about small things, but that's besides the point. It's kind of beautiful, even if the poem itself isn't altogether fabulous.

You should write a "In this one you are..." poem. Close your eyes for a moment and look for what image comes to you. Then share with us what you write. Or don't. Or do share it somewhere else.

Chronology of Photographs, In Words

In this one you are trusting. See how
it emanates from your eyes?
In their hazel-green-grayness, they are your
eyes, trusting the world the way
a 24-year-old should trust a world, you are
beautiful
the way you wear your body, the
smile that shows the world
you. You
are a living, smiling, trusting daughter of dreams and earth
you live life quietly, out loud, see,
there, right there, how it carries in your voice?
It’s quiet, you, embodied,
living your words in your voice.
You’re young and the world’s uncertain
you know this, but you’re young so
trust this one. This one is for trusting, yes, so
trust it. In this one
you are
trusting.

In this one you are hiding. See how
it fills your eyes?
They are your eyes—the hazel-green-gray
holds fear, but you,
a 25-year-old waiting to be unbroken, you are
beautiful
the way you wear your body,
trying to fill it with something you believe you lost, but--see it?
It’s there—just there—beyond the
cloak of uncertainty,
the way you try to smile to show that you
are living, still,
a brave daughter of the world
you live life quietly, on the page, see
how it carries your voice?
It’s quiet, you, embodied on the page,
it’s your voice, still.
You’re young and the world’s uncertain
your very cells know this now
but you’re young so
trust this one.
This one, too, is for
trusting.

In this one you are changing. See how
that confidence fills your eyes?
The hazel-green-gray depth of your eyes
holds wisdom,
a 26-year-old, loving the world, you are
beautiful.
The way you wear your body,
proud of the past it embodies, you are
confident, sometimes, and
gentle when you’re not—you
love the world and the place you take in it.
A living, smiling, wise daughter of
courage and faith, you
live life quietly, out loud, see
how you share it with the world?
You’re young and the world’s uncertain
but also for loving, so
trust this one. It will be hard, yes, but
in this one
you will also be
trusting.