  {"id":2935,"date":"2019-05-12T14:27:48","date_gmt":"2019-05-12T19:27:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/uwm.edu\/creamcityreview\/?p=2935"},"modified":"2019-09-16T16:50:16","modified_gmt":"2019-09-16T21:50:16","slug":"revelations","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/uwm.edu\/creamcityreview\/revelations\/","title":{"rendered":"&#8220;Revelations&#8221; by Maria Terrone"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>[et_pb_section fb_built=&#8221;1&#8243; _builder_version=&#8221;3.0.47&#8243;][et_pb_row _builder_version=&#8221;3.0.48&#8243; background_size=&#8221;initial&#8221; background_position=&#8221;top_left&#8221; background_repeat=&#8221;repeat&#8221;][et_pb_column type=&#8221;4_4&#8243; _builder_version=&#8221;3.0.47&#8243; parallax=&#8221;off&#8221; parallax_method=&#8221;on&#8221;][et_pb_text _builder_version=&#8221;3.17.2&#8243; background_size=&#8221;initial&#8221; background_position=&#8221;top_left&#8221; background_repeat=&#8221;repeat&#8221; inline_fonts=&#8221;AkzidenzGrotesk&#8221;]<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><span style=\"font-size: xx-large\"><strong>Revelations<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>by Maria Terrone<\/em><\/p>\n<p>I grew up in a family and culture where we lived by the dictum, \u201cNever tell anyone your business.\u201d The assumption behind this warning was that to share confidences was to make yourself vulnerable to people who might use the information against you. Basically, very few human beings could be trusted, and so as a general rule it was wise to avoid discussing personal matters and one\u2019s deepest thoughts and feelings.<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s no surprise, then, that even as an adult, I gravitate to physical spaces that help protect me and my privacy. In our enclosed co-op garden, I seek out the bench that\u2019s nearly encircled by shrubbery. Riding the subway, I\u2019ll gravitate to a seat against a wall at the far end of the car. From these vantage points, I can look out and observe others without being seen or at least, remain inconspicuous.<\/p>\n<p>Not being seen? Not sharing life in all its agonies, ecstasies and minutiae with 1,500 \u201cfriends\u201d? In a world dominated by social media, my inclinations conflict with cultural expectations. Even so, I have a Facebook account that I use sparingly for practical purposes, and even a Twitter handle, but please don\u2019t ask me what that is\u2014I\u2019ll have to look it up! I suppose this is my way of not isolating myself from 21<sup>st<\/sup> century communication but \u201csharing\u201d on my own terms.<\/p>\n<p>Where things get sticky is in my life as a poet. When I began to get serious decades ago about my then-uncirculated writing, the confessional poetry of Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath was the much-admired norm. Given my upbringing, my initial reaction was to cringe in the face of naked self-revelation, to feel uneasy on the receiving end of the authors\u2019 fury, pain, and trauma. At the same time, I had to acknowledge the honesty and courage of poets who brought the hidden and forbidden into full view.<\/p>\n<p>Getting used to writing my own confessional poetry, though, didn\u2019t come easily. When the leader of my first poetry workshop repeatedly urged me to \u201cgo deeper,\u201d I understood her to mean that I should plumb my emotions and experiences no matter where that brought me. It\u2019s not that I avoided the first person in my poems, but I wasn\u2019t allowing myself to go far below the surface.<\/p>\n<p>My learned and, I believe, natural reserve was being tested. But how could I write poetry that truly mattered, that touched readers on their deepest levels if I stayed with \u201csafe\u201d content The answer was, I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n<p>Like a new swimmer tentatively advancing one baby step at a time into a vast, sometimes frightening, sometimes exhilarating ocean, I began to write more self-revealing poetry. I\u2019ve always had an aversion to poems that were too raw, as if thrown together in the heat of unrestrained emotion. A counterbalance to deal with difficult content, I discovered, was to focus on the poem\u2019s form. What had moved me from mere acceptance of the confessional writers to admiration was that the best of them used their finely honed poetic skills to communicate the strongest emotions, transforming what could have been overwhelming for a reader into powerful, refined works of art.<\/p>\n<p>In my own work, I found that using formal techniques to frame my poems was liberating. One example that comes to mind from my first collection, <em>The Bodies We Were Loaned,<\/em> is \u201cFlesh That\u2019s Signed,\u201d a three-part, sonnet-like poem employing rhyme that deals with my childhood insecurities in my relationship with my mother. As a 16-year-old, I was profoundly affected by my summer job typing up psychiatrists\u2019 reports and group sessions with veterans wounded physically and emotionally. I turned again to the sonnet form to grapple with the remembered feelings \u201cof a girl who hadn\u2019t yet known sorrow, men or war.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I still get a visceral thrill from writing persona poems, probably because they allow me to employ the first person point of view while imagining and inhabiting another\u2019s psyche (I\u2019ve had fun being a queen in ancient Egypt, a ghost in a lighthouse, and a 19<sup>th-<\/sup>century teenager employed by a glass factory, to mention a few). I also like to write about historical subjects\u2014a recent example is a <strong><a href=\"https:\/\/hudsonreview.com\/2018\/07\/edgar-allan-poe-dines-at-thomas-jeffersons-home-the-white-piano\/\"><span style=\"text-decoration: underline\">poem<\/span><\/a>\u00a0<\/strong>imagining a meeting between Edgar Allan Poe and Thomas Jefferson during the brief time that Poe attended Jefferson\u2019s University of Charlottesville. But I recognize that some of my strongest work emerges in times of great duress, such as my beloved father\u2019s deterioration from Alzheimer\u2019s and his death.<\/p>\n<p>Over the last few years, I\u2019ve found myself reaching into my past and re-experiencing formative events from a new perspective through my poetry and, increasingly, creative nonfiction. When the Me Too movement opened its floodgates, memories resurfaced. Although the incident that I describe in the poem \u201cErased\u201d had occurred a long time ago, I remembered it vividly. The fact that so many women had bravely disclosed physical violations far more egregious and traumatic than what I\u2019d experienced on the street was empowering. Instead of keeping the subject buried, I knew the time had come to bring it into the light through my writing.<\/p>\n<p>Once I made that leap, I realized that the form of the poem could reinforce my sense of being eradicated. And so, before the assault is introduced, the \u201cI\u201d is repeated and prominent. This is the self-affirming \u201cI\u201d in all its youth, innocence, and optimism. Then \u201che\u201d enters the scene and only needs to be cited once because \u201che\u201d dominates through violence. After the assault, the \u201cI\u201d has been replaced by a column of negatives\u2014&#8221;not, no, nil, nada,\u201d ending with the ultimate erasure: \u201cno-thing.\u201d The woman, the person\u2014me\u2014has been reduced not just to an object, but to nothing.<\/p>\n<p>Ironically, by writing this poem and seeing it published\u2014thank you<em>, Cream City Review<\/em> editors!\u2014I feel that I\u2019ve reclaimed a lost part of myself. As that poet advised in her workshop, I\u2019ve \u201cdug deeper\u201d in my writing, and the result has been a breakthrough.<\/p>\n<p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row custom_padding=&#8221;30px|0px|21px|0px|false|false&#8221; _builder_version=&#8221;3.17.2&#8243;][et_pb_column type=&#8221;4_4&#8243; _builder_version=&#8221;3.0.47&#8243; parallax=&#8221;off&#8221; parallax_method=&#8221;on&#8221;][et_pb_image src=&#8221;https:\/\/uwm.edu\/creamcityreview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/421\/2019\/05\/Erased.png&#8221; align=&#8221;center&#8221; _builder_version=&#8221;3.17.2&#8243;][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=&#8221;3.17.2&#8243;]<\/p>\n<p><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\"><em>*<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>Maria Terrone<\/strong>\u2019s poetry collections are <em>Eye to Eye; A Secret Room in Fall<\/em> (McGovern Prize, Ashland Poetry Press),<em> The Bodies We Were Loaned<\/em>, and a chapbook, <em>American Gothic, Take 2<\/em>. Publication credits: <em>Poetry<\/em>, <em>Ploughshares<\/em> and more than 25 anthologies. <em>At Home in the New World<\/em>, an essay collection, appears this fall from Bordighera Press. Terrone&#8217;s poem &#8220;Erased&#8221; appears in Issue 43.1 of <em>Cream City Review<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Like a new swimmer tentatively advancing one baby step at a time into a vast, sometimes frightening, sometimes exhilarating ocean, I began to write more self-revealing poetry&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":37709,"featured_media":3183,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","uwm_wg_additional_authors":[]},"categories":[51],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2935","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","et-has-post-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v27.3 (Yoast SEO v27.3) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-premium-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>&quot;Revelations&quot; 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