Bonnie Maurer
For this sculpture, I imagine the dreamer “awake” in awe before this immense silvery ladder reaching toward the heavens. Could it be Jacob? This time the dreamer proclaims, ”I am not afraid.” What heights can we climb to?
For me, this RSA seminar has succeeded in broadening the story of Jacob’s Ladder with its many characters: Rebekah, Isaac, Esau, Leah, Rachel, Labin, and its climbing and wrestling angels! Rabbi Sandy’s provocative seminar questions also have deepened the story for contemporary times: “What would it mean to find a way to blessing?” “What do we wrestle with?” And “What do we fail to take notice of at our own peril?” These and other questions by the faculty and participants have served as triggers to stimulating discussions and artful explorations. I always leave each session enriched and challenged to create.
I Am Not Afraid
Wrestling
I am not a wrestler,
though I watched those fights
with my father of “The World’s
Most Dangerous Wrestler,”
Dick the Bruiser, to see him lurching
like a street brawler, it was said, to
eat peanuts with my father,
throw shells on the floor.
My brothers wrestled.
One, to the floor with me
until I shouted “Uncle.”
Remember that game?
And only one grappled
like Jacob to save his sould
while I skated across ice
in arabesque, the one trick
I learned with swan perfection
at twelve. That year the Luna moth
I pulled from under the limestone.
Did I ever fall in love more than
in that pale green moment?
At thirteen, I could tell you
about a girl wrestling
her sexuality away,
growing wild in her heart’s
hunt for a blessing.
Father, junkman 9 to 9, wrestled
his scarlet heart
murmuring “hard work,” “dirty hands,”
“never quit,” until it did.
Mother sparred for her last breath.
Death, that spirit dog,
gripped her like a mean rag
clenched in its teeth, shook her,
three bouts until her last
breath out, surrendered,
softened the air.
Was it cha cha I practiced
with her across the living room floor,
forward and backward cha
cha cha?
I am not a wrestler,
though I battled with my husband
in that tug of war we played,
our hands frayed and hearts torn.
We had to learn to skip awards
for winning or not — clearly not — until
we wrapped ourselves in blessing
and began again.
Today I walk along a great lake shore choosing
oval rocks, one thousand years tossed
and tumbled smooth.
How good to welcome this world.
Leah Speaks
I had weak eyes
and I was gangly,
not shapely like Rachel.
My hair was fine, not thick
as carded wool and wavy
as Rachel’s. Maybe I favored
my mother’s side, these unfortunate
feet, long and narrow with that one
toe crossing over the other
like a good-luck sign. But
I had no blessing for luck.
News of Jacob’s kiss at the well
traveled in whispers across windy sands.
Rachel and Jacob were to marry.
To dance, I took her warm hands.
But Laban, my father, the deceiver,
hid me under the veil.
I woke in Jacob’s tent at dawn,
wet and spent with blood,
naked as a stone
to this rough cousin. Never
my Jacob. Only Rachel’s.
Who was I?
Leah, wringing my hands.
About Bonnie
Bonnie Maurer holds a MA in Teaching English as a Second Language and a Master of Fine Arts in Poetry from IU. Her previous poetry chapbooks include “Ms. Lily Jane Babbitt Before the Ten O’Clock Bus from Memphis Ran Over Her,” “Old 37: The Mason Cows,” “Bloodletting: A Ritual Poem for Women’s Voices,” “Reconfigured,” and the hardback, “The Reconfigured Goddess: Poems of a Breast Cancer Survivor.” Her forthcoming book, “The Poem Stands on Its Head by the Window,” will be out this summer from Finishing Line Press.
Maurer was a finalist for the Poet Laureate of Indiana in 2020. Her poems have been featured in a variety of places from The New York Times to the local Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library anthology, So It Goes to the 6th floor ceiling of St. Vincent Hospital. Maurer has conducted creative writing/healing workshops for numerous community populations, including the homeless in recovery, the HIV+/AIDS affected/infected, cancer patients, seniors, veterans, and students in grades 1-12. She recently retired from The Indianapolis Business Journal after 28 years.
Maurer grew up in Indianapolis where she continues to work as a poet for Arts for Learning and as an Ai Chi (aquatic flowing energy) instructor at the JCC. Currently, as a welder, Maurer has won the John E. Owen Award and the Sutton Garden Award for sculpture at the juried Indianapolis Art Center shows.