From Beneath the Steps: A Writing Guide for 12-Sstep Recovery
by Christine Beck
Prompt for June 2021
Hypervigilance
I learned to deal with the fear of violence by being hypervigilant to the moods in my house. I learned to hide. I wrote about it, using the game “Huckle, Buckle Beanstalk,” a game of searching for an object in plain view. The name had that wonderful sound of repetition that I treasure in writing poetry. I thought the game was harmless fun, but uncovered a deeper meaning. See if you can keep writing about a topic until you surprise yourself with a kernel of a buried truth.
In this poem, I surprised myself by turning into a tree. This is called a “turn” in poetry, a shift in tone or topic. Growing up, I always felt safe outside sitting under a tree, so it isn’t surprising that I turned myself into a tree. I made the tree a home that has “sustenance,” plenty of what is needed to nurture birds and bugs—and maybe me.
Objects
Huckle buckle beanstalk, a game of looking
for an object hidden in plain view, which
refuses to be found, camouflaged
in the shift and twist of the material.
An ordinary object, a pencil, say, or glove,
something useful, or something useless,
a ticket stub from a movie, a dried rose
from a man whose name has frittered off.
I loved that game, where luck was immaterial,
where skill or speed, or being chosen for the team,
was unimportant, a game for which you needn’t trust
another, no secret word, no acting out a movie title.
Just silent vigilance, looking for what isn’t there, or
isn’t where it’s supposed to be, knowing you are what
is missing, which is why you love to hide in open air,
stashed in plain view, looking ordinary. Slowing down
your breathing, until you sink into a nearby sapling, not worth
noticing. Until you are the tree, a home for birds and bugs,
a stationary object that sucks up sustenance
from deep inside the earth.
PROMPT:
1.Write about your backyard, park, or wherever you played outside as a child. Who was there? What games did you play?
Did you feel safe?
2.Write about your relationship with nature and the natural world today. Is it a safe, inspiring place? Try to imagine a safe place and write about it. Allow birds or animals to talk or help you if they want to.
Connection to Recovery:
The end of the poem reminds me to slow down and breathe when I feel agitated. It shows nature is my safe space. It reminds me that we are all connected in recovery. Being “ordinary” is actually a goal. Trying to be “special” got me in trouble.
