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For Those Who Wake in Fear by Joseph Fasano
Editorial Note by Max Wallis
For Those Who Wake in Fear doesn’t console, it steadies the reader. This is a poem for anyone who’s made it back from the dark. Joseph Fasano names the unspeakable with a featherlight touch: “You have felt it slip your heart / like a trembling wren.” That image alone could undo you. But the poem doesn’t stop there. It exhales. It reminds us that if we’ve “carried what we had to,” through the madness and silence and rupture, then we are already whole, already singing. This poem understands that survival isn’t triumphant. It’s breath, it’s repetition, it’s breath again. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, it’s music. Fasano gives us that music. Gently and unforgettably. I’m so grateful for his poetry, and for his support.
For Those Who Wake in Fear
by Joseph Fasano
Say you get a second chance.
You have been to the country of Death.
You have felt it slip your heart
like a trembling wren
back into your left breast pocket
and turn you back toward the country
of the living.
You have felt those small wings shiver
in the dark.
You’re breathing. Aren’t you
still breathing?
Listen. I don’t know
what the end is. All I know
is the body is a promise
and the starlight blazed to make you
of the changes,
and if, somehow, you’ve carried
what you had to,
if you’ve managed through the madnesses
to carry it,
you’ll be there, in your own arms,
in the darkness,
when the dark departs
and the breath begins
to lift you,
and the one great thing you’ve always been afraid of
calmly becomes the great song that you are.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe
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By Max Wallis' Daily Aftershock Writing Prompts (The Aftershock Review)Editorial Note by Max Wallis
For Those Who Wake in Fear doesn’t console, it steadies the reader. This is a poem for anyone who’s made it back from the dark. Joseph Fasano names the unspeakable with a featherlight touch: “You have felt it slip your heart / like a trembling wren.” That image alone could undo you. But the poem doesn’t stop there. It exhales. It reminds us that if we’ve “carried what we had to,” through the madness and silence and rupture, then we are already whole, already singing. This poem understands that survival isn’t triumphant. It’s breath, it’s repetition, it’s breath again. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, it’s music. Fasano gives us that music. Gently and unforgettably. I’m so grateful for his poetry, and for his support.
For Those Who Wake in Fear
by Joseph Fasano
Say you get a second chance.
You have been to the country of Death.
You have felt it slip your heart
like a trembling wren
back into your left breast pocket
and turn you back toward the country
of the living.
You have felt those small wings shiver
in the dark.
You’re breathing. Aren’t you
still breathing?
Listen. I don’t know
what the end is. All I know
is the body is a promise
and the starlight blazed to make you
of the changes,
and if, somehow, you’ve carried
what you had to,
if you’ve managed through the madnesses
to carry it,
you’ll be there, in your own arms,
in the darkness,
when the dark departs
and the breath begins
to lift you,
and the one great thing you’ve always been afraid of
calmly becomes the great song that you are.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe