“So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.
— Sylvia Plath
I have this marvellous little book. It's an anthology of Charles Bukowski's writing, but it's not chronological. It's his work, ordered according to the time of his life he was writing about. Poems, short stories, ramblings. Everything.
It ends with Bluebird. It's one of his most famous poems. And it articulates his lifelong struggle. He put on a tough front, old Charles. He was rough, raw, honest. Crude. Crass. But underneath it all, tender. Gentle. And so heartfelt.
I like to think that everybody is born with a bluebird (a kind soul, a loving heart, a softness, an innocence, beauty) inside of them. It may be idealistic of me. But I think people who have had tough lives - whether due to inner or outer turmoil - cultivate a hard shell that hides the delicacy within. It's self-preservation. And it's natural, in this cut-throat world of ours, where vulnerability is considered a weakness and loving leaves us naked to hurt.
I make it my mission to soften people. To tap, tap, tap, away, gently, patiently, until a smile or a kind word emerges from a callused facade. It's selfish, I suppose, because it's for my own satisfaction, to restore my faith in humanity, one person at a time. But I like to think that it is good for them, too, in a way.
Bluebird
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
3 comments:
Lovely! Reminds me of a friend I have. He seems really tough on the outside, maybe even arrogant to some, but he's just shy. I'd like to let that ''bluebird'' out, which only seems to come out during drunken nights.. Any tips? :)
Talk to the bluebird (drunk or not), not the facade... ease it out of its hiding place. Be gentle and trustworthy. Be a friend. xx
I've just stumbled across your beautiful blog.
Life has brought it to me at exactly the right time. Thank you
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