This being human is as tabula rasa
some have said. Imagining her foetus
folded and moulded in wax
must melt a mother’s’ heart.
Opaque as opal, veined and marbled
with a little wick of white bones.
She lights a candle when the wick is trimmed.
With breath of life, the small flame’s tended
drip fed milk-white molten drops.
So do infants rise as a pillar is meant
straight and reaching for the light
with stars and pressed flowers
in the waxen skin, smelling of almonds.
Yet all too human we mature misshapen.
Deform by emotive storms, vicissitudes
that add a tapered twist. And multitudes
of words once heard graffitied deep within:-
lovenvyearningreed
dangeragemptyield
This human being is well-written now
skin aged and puckered as beeswax
awaiting the eternal flame.
*tabula rasa – blank wax tablet. Philosophy of humans in original pure state, yet to be altered by outside forces.
For her Poetics prompt Kim asks us to write a metaphor poem that starts with Rumi's words: "This being human is"
PoetryPix 
That is such a coincidence, Laura. I wrote this prompt and my own response before Radio 4 started to broadcast its serialisation of Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro this week, and that is the first thing that came into my mind when I read your poem. In the book, Klara is an AI (Artificial Friend) to a dying girl, and the girl’s parents are planning to make her into the daughter when she is gone. The AI is a tabula rasa to begin with, but she is a very fast learner. It especially chimes with what you wrote about ‘Imagining her foetus / folded and moulded in wax / must melt a mother’s’ heart’. My favourite lines:
‘Opaque as opal, veined and marbled
with a little wick of white bones’
and
‘With breath of life, the small flame’s tended
drip fed milk-white molten drops.’
I too feel that I am ‘well-written… skin aged and puckered as beeswax’.
yes what a coincidence – I do not listen to radio but Ishiguro a well-respected writer. Thank you for the prompt and for you lovely comment
This is absolutely exquisite, Laura! ❤️ I am especially moved by; “So do infants rise as a pillar is meant straight and reaching for the light with stars and pressed flowers in the waxen skin, smelling of almonds.” Your imagery is to die for! 🙂
you are so generous with your words Sanaa – thank you
I love being as tabula rasa…. but alas the unwritten page is almost always soiled with whatever we feed them… in the end there is always something somewhat corrosive.
we humans are imperfect and hence the wax is always blemished
So beautifully written.
thanks Bev – especially as I struggled with this prompt
I like how you put those words together, as the emotions do flow into each other. “words once heard graffitied deep within” My heart wishes there was a filter babies could be installed with that only let in the good stuff, but my mind knows the bad stuff is the flotsam framework our characters are built upon. Excellent poem, as usual, Laura!
yes the words ran together quite spontaneously! perhaps it is our blemishes that makes us seek the perfect power!
The metaphor runs through this seamlessly and you work it so well. I really like how you seem to have the candle growing through age as well, not melting into nothing, but maturing.
am chuffed by your ‘seamlessly’reference as I tried not to overemphasize whilst not losing the image.
Wow, wow, wow! What a wonderful metaphor! Love where you state ‘graffitied deep within’ and then combine the graffitied words of ‘lovenvyearningreed’ and ‘dangeragemptyield’ ,
A fantastic write indeed!
many many thanks Carol – words do hurt as well as heal so I ran them together as amalgam
p.s. what a striking avatar you have
Yes, WOW, this is a wonderfully developed metaphor, Laura! I especially love the phrase “smelling of almonds”. We each hold a flame to shine forth, even from “twisted tapers”.
something heavenly about that smell! thank you Lynn and for spotting the spiritual meaning here too
“Awaiting the eternal flame” adds so much power to the whole piece!
many thanks – had to end on a positive note!
Very well done Laura. Yes, we seem to come out in misshapen wax, but we will be a candle some day! I love this line…
And multitudes
of words once heard graffitied deep within:
thank you Dwight – I think we are as candles, misshapen too but theres an inner flame kept alight by the Spirit
Yes, I agree! Let your little light shine!
This is so beautifully and skilfully written: the imagery is visceral and heartbreaking, especially that of the ‘foetus/folded and moulded in wax.’ Then to reach the conclusion that ‘Yet all too human we mature misshapen.’ and bring the waxen imagery back around to the flame. Wow!
thank you Ingrid – that imagery came to me especially now that mothers see their baby scans (I never did – before my time!)
This is a beautiful metaphor, Laura. Humans mature misshapen.
alas yes we are frail in our waxen shapes but not without hope!
Certainly not without hope.
See you around.
WOW, Laura.
This immediately made me think of a mother’s milk for her infant.
Your poem is truly stunning.
Yours,
David
yes! you got it in one David. The mother’s milk like drops of wax to build the child. Thank you as always for your encouragement
a little wick of white bones.
She lights a candle when the wick is trimmed.
such a beautiful image, Laura. I found this poem very moving.
happy to hear that Sarah – thank you
From “meant / straight and reaching for the light” to “we mature misshapen” — so true. I especially like this line: “multitudes / of words once heard graffitied deep within”
many thanks Ken
I really like the idea we are like melted wax, winding up somewhat misshapen from the journey. Definitely applies to me. Smiles.
all part of the human experience!
I love how you wrote, ‘lovenvyearningreed/dangeragemptyield”
a bit of challenge making the beginnings and endings merge to make words – so thank you
This is hauntingly beautiful Laura, a read to fall into — wonderfully!
lovenvyearningreed – love envy yearning greed
dangeragemptyield – danger rage empty yield
…masterful…
wonderful comment too Rob – “a read to fall into” – I liked that!
And now and then we are fulfilled by the beauty of art, like these words, my dear Laura, while “awaiting the eternal flame”. Thank you, my dear friend. xoxo
and the beauty of friendships – even these virtual ones Marina – always appreciated!!
….oh, yes! 🙏 🤗
Exquisitely Beautiful, leaves me hushed.
I am grateful for that – thank you
You’re most welcome.
Those last two stanzas were vivid and pressing.
thank you