6 July: The Maslow Hierarchy


Wrong number, my mother says.

and she’s speaking to someone
nearby, saying “I misdialled her.”

I hang up the phone.
And then pick up it back up again.
I listen. She’s still on the line.

“You haven’t hung up,” I say.
And she’s talking to me, but
she’s not saying anything.

It’s words. Words. Meaningless.
Like words read straight
from a dictionary page.

And then I wake up.
I remember what her
voice sounds like.

I’d forgotten that.

And I feel the sort of
happiness I felt when she’d
ring me on my birthday.

I wish I’d told her that I
was born on the wind, that
I’d be forever on the move.

I’m restless. That I was sorry
wind took me away from her.
That’s what I am. Restless.

I’ve always been too quiet.

Miz Quickly’s 2 July: 7 Words indicating relationship  and Earthweal: 6 July, The Maslow Hierarchy.  I looked at the Maslow’s Hierarchy, and I was reminded of a dream I had last week. I’ve gone off the theme of community (as asked) but family is (IMO) community. Photo by Wendy Scofield on Unsplash

10 responses to “6 July: The Maslow Hierarchy”

  1. I don’t think you can go off theme here. Most of the prompts I’ve seen have been complex enough to make me stop and wait for something to brew and bubble down in the depths – and I’m interested that you used a dream here. Dreamwork is definitely part of that brewing and bubbling, and family is definitely part of our community – the heart of it. It’s a great poem. I love that shift in the middle, from dream to reality, and the sense of loss – your mother’s meaning, your mother – and your restlessness, and then that last line. It has that dream logic, and then that poignancy.


  2. This one. Especially that central portion. The gift. Wow.


  3. Oh this is beautiful and sad, and in my mind, I equated it with our turning away from Mother Earth, so it feels totally on-prompt to me. (Plus, we’re pretty spacious and receptive at earthweal. Smiles.)


  4. Yes, it is hard to speak up when we are used to being meek. Our time is now I think.


  5. This is a poem I can identify with and reminded me of my mother, who would have been 83 last Sunday. Made me cry. Especially the lines:
    ‘I wish I’d told her that I
    was born on the wind, that
    I’d be forever on the move.

    I’m restless. That I was sorry
    wind took me away from her.’
    I would love a conversation with the other side.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. I love how you enter the poem mid-dream; we don’t know it is so until the speaker wakes, which is a perfect way to write about dreams. And then there is the conversation with the dead, which may be all that dreaming is anyway. Well done. – Brendan


  7. I’m still waiting to dream of my mother, but I’ve found comfort in the dreams of my other dead. You capture both the feeling of the dream and the awakening–it adds a new layer to the relationship. (K)

    Liked by 1 person

  8. This captures the skewed logic of a dream, our moms are always turning up!

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Entering mid-dream, pluraties of meaning, a very fine poem. And one that brings mymother back to me –as usual, uncomfortably.


  10. So beautiful and sad and perfect.


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