Living Bubbles

This is a poem written from an experience I had in college. This poem has been revised and revised, and feels like a sculpture that has emerged from marble. But the first transformation was the most amazing one to me....The first draft descibed the events of the experience. The day it happened, my friend and I were supposed to study Physical Chemistry together. I went to her dorm room at the appointed time, knocked, and no answer. I started down the hall, and my inner still quiet voice spoke louder than usual--Go back! I figured her door would be locked, but it wasn't. I felt uneasy turning the knob to go into her private space. The first draft of this poem painted a starkly vivid picture of her, unconscious on the bed with blood and pill bottles everywhere. Weeks later after she was out of the hospital, I sat down to read it and rewrite the poem, and suddenly there were bubbles....



Living Bubbles


We flew our clear-glass bubbles
side by side
Or I'd watch hers rise
as mine brushed the ground
then the bushes
and flew past my friend
when it was her time to sink
my time to soar

Some days we balanced on top
slip-sliding, lighter than angels
Then we'd crawl safe inside
waving from our sun-prism bubble globes
as we drowsed in our floating cradles

In her bubble
a dark space
grew but
I never noticed
since she spent
the most time sitting
on top of her bubble
smiling when I laughed
looking sad when I cried
One day she fled inside to tearless silence-
The bubble burst pin hidden
in her sleeve