What She Discovers
Coda to Struggling
she is dorothy,
in oz,
and toto has pulled
back the curtain.
on everything.
what she discovers
behind that curtain
goes so
far
beyond
the small nasty
manipulative man
she sees
standing there
that she can hardly breathe.
what she discovers
is vast, spreads
in all directions
and turns out to be long-lived,
centuries in the making.
the small nasty
manipulative man
is merely one
in a long long
line of such.
not what she’d thought
at all.
at all.
and this is when,
to her wonderment,
she is moved
to say
thank you, moved
to feel grateful,
even though
she doesn’t really know
to whom she is
expressing her thanks
nor, she recognizes, does she fully
understand
the full mess of the mess.
she just knows
that this mess—
the lies
the power grabs
the machinations
the darkness—
that mess,
the whole big
unfathomable
nasty mess—
was there
all along
whether
she knew it or not.
and now she knows it
in a way she hadn’t before.
there it is
for her to see.
she also knows
that two opposites
can be true
at the same time.
the mess can be true
and so too is it true
that in the face of that mess
she can traverse
the yellow brick road
of her days
with brain,
heart, and nerve.
she can say
thank you,
for the satisfaction
of folding and tucking in
the sheets just so when
she makes her bed,
for the fizz of her weekly animated
conversation with pria
as she goes through the register
at market basket,
for the physical pleasure
of the sure-footed swing
of her strong legs as they
walk her step by step.
this gratitude is her truth,
her home,
she is alive in this gratitude.
this is her truth
and it coexists with
with the mess.
there’s no place like home
no place like home,
and
she is not homeless,
she is grateful.
—dotty seiter
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3 x 3″; water color and ink on paper
card #18 in a series of color swatches
2025
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Notes about poem and painting:
• “Coda” is another free verse poem. The small experiment while drafting this poem and its companion piece was to play with writing from varied points of view. In the end I chose third person singular feminine.
• Hidden by a profusion of leaves hang clusters of Concord grapes on vines covering an arbor that sits where the original back entry to our home used to be. The Nature celebrates their having ripened from tart green to their characteristic sweeter deep dusky purple.
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10 responses to “What She Discovers”
That poem is so strong! Sad and positive! Sadly there are vey few places in our world where there isn’t a “mess”. I especially loved the verse on “gratitude”. I have started to greet the morning light with gratitude, a Japanese practice I found when I looked up Komorebi. There is so much to be grateful for. My first gr-granddaughter was born on Yom Kippur! What could be better than that!
What beautiful colors! Love Concord wine!
Congratulations on the birth of your great granddaughter, Carol!
Thank you for your comments about my poem and for your mention of komorebi and of your practice of greeting the morning light with gratitude. Similarly, I rise each day before dawn, dress, and go outdoors immediately to walk, even if just for a few minutes, and I feel such gratitude for the rotating of the earth and the beginning of a new day.
Concord wine, yum!
Yes yes yes, so wonderful that gratitude (and JOY!) can coexist with the mess. I am grateful for your daily affirmation of same every day.
Love your timely reflection on ‘no place like home’ : )
Painting the Concord grapes was fun, with their deep deep hue, such a contrast to so many of the bright and shiny colors that are bright beacons in the garden. Granddaughter Emmy loves plucking those grapes when she visits, even though she’s typically here before they come into depth of sweetness.
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Simone, thanks for letting me know you were touched by this poem. I have been so grateful to tap into poetry in recent months as a way to grapple with life issues and clarify my thinking in many cases. In trying to find words with the music of poetry in mind has opened new pathways.
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