Poem: "I See the World When"

By Chelsea E. Rotunno | "Stay quiet if you want to live. That’s the only way to breathe . . . " | How a woman survives heartbreak; how a child survives trauma | 5-min. read | Trigger warning

Click the “play” button to listen to the author read the poem.

"I See the World When"
by Chelsea E. Rotunno


I see the world as the legs of tables and chairs

I don’t see the world in unctuous colors
And long, lofty introductions. 

There is no time. 

I see the world with an empty trash bag over my head
And only a tiny breathing hole 
If I point my chin down.
Stay quiet if you want to live. That’s the only way to breathe
With this stranger in the garage

So I see the world with sounds and smells for survival.

I tap dance for attention.
Then scream for a bottle
After the mean teenagers hurt me 
In my sister’s room
Where the blue shag carpet and I 
Learn that cassette tapes are louder 
Than four-year-old girls.

Words mean everything if you can get them right. 
You can’t get them right if you don’t read.

Years later I learn to read

I see the world through Berenstain Bears books. 
I see the world at the T.O. Library with my big sister’s reading list

I’m voiceless--I’m mostly blind. 
I see the world in Mrs. Sanders’ class when I get my first pair of glasses. Third grade.

Once I can see 
I want to say something
But I stay quiet even with something to say
Stay quiet to survive.

At home I play Missile Command
I eat spaghetti and meatballs and 
Mom fills the home with her art and food
and loud colors
And insults

Dad fills the home with Beethoven
And the Bible
Around the same table and chairs
That know me so well, know the smell of my blood and hold it’s pigment within its grains
Under a red and white checkered tablecloth that has a tiny hole for the table to breathe

I want to scream it
I don’t know what it is anymore
I smell fried onions and tomato sauce and I want to write
Once I can write
I want to say something.

I see the world through a game.
With a gray plastic controller
I pass Mario one, two, and three, Tetris, and Contra.
Because of a secret code to immortality
I will write one day.

I see the world as music with careful steps
Ballet class with Patrick, who cusses in French
And tells me to focus or leave.
I focus and I force my legs and feet and arms to obey
Strength first, grace after.

How beautiful and kind is distraction
In the dressing room bustling with ballerinas
The tule skirt I rub between my fingers
Pressing my toes through
the holes in my tights.

I see the world from the stage
A blur
of faces and lights.
No one knows
A snow corps dancer.

At school and church I’m in love 
With Everyman who is eternally good
But I stay quiet
Safe
Alone

I see the world when
I move out with no car, no money
A university scholarship.
Listening Plus Writing Plus Hiding what is in my heart
Equals Straight As.

I love every book
I trace their spines
I love dead authors
dead prophets
I desire sex with one husband, eternally good, golden, kind.

I see the world when I find him.
I know the meaning of life when I have a baby.
And the meaning of life is
to love and protect
her.

Fierce fears blind and mute me
Strangers steal my baby
In my nightmares
So I become an owl, my head always turning
I see the world through the tiny hole on my front door

Years Years Years, a mother
Mountain angels, ocean castles
Cleaning up spills with warm rags
Life spills fluids like blood through holes in the body.

Memories are rain drops
Trickling, collecting, overflowing
After I click publish
and I have
a voice.

A bag over my head in the garage?
An angel whispering: You have to scream. Scream or you will die.
What is this world, this game
I lost before I’d outgrown
Suckling milk from a small hole in a nipple?

An invisible canopy
Drowns everything and everyone

I see the world, a mystery holding nothing 
I see the world in water
I see forgiveness pouring, pouring
From a hole in heaven
Over a baby, over me
I see the garage covered in silver
I see it fill the street
It is thick
The stranger is the tip of a burned match
Floating away in the sea of liquid light.

I fill the home with green leaves
He fills the home with purple pomegranates.
Fifteen years the faithful husband 
confesses
Instagram hashtags

Life as a cursed
Cursed
Woman
I bless, I stay, I write
Poems and prayers
Speaking out
Forgiveness.

I see the world when I forgive
Men for taking, peeking, poking, piercing
Myself for breathing, loathing, living, screaming
God for creating
And letting go 
and
forgiving.

Thank you so much for reading and/or listening. Please let me know your thoughts.

What line stood out to you? Why?

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• What I’m loving and what I’m learning—October reflectios.

• Short Stories called “Encounter on the Rue” and “The Girl with the Green Velvet Ribbon.”

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Love, Chelsea

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