Incompletion
There is a church in Barcelona
That has been under construction for a hundred years
And I wonder if it is still holy
In its incompletion.
Do its prayers,
Carried upwards from unfinished stone
Hold the same weight
To the universe?
I imagine its statues, hands trapped in marble
Stone eyes unopened
Awaiting their finishing touches.
I imagine old places, rough stone, broken corners
Joined to that which is new,
As though the limestone is a growing thing,
Sending forth leaves in all the places
Where time has carved scars.
Do the tourists line the streets
For the spectacle of incompletion?
Gaping at the way the old gives way to something new
As though each spot is a wound
Casting glances at the scar tissue on the stone.
Or is there something sacred
In this perennial change?
Are the cranes now a part of the shrine
Worshippers in their own right?
I imagine incompletion like a prayer
The sacredness of leaving doorways empty
Statues waiting to be discovered in hard stone
The promise of growth like a mountain
Whose cliffs are not done rising.
I can’t help but wonder if something would be lost
If the builders ever laid down their tools.
I can’t help but wonder if so
Do Not Give My Demons Any Credit
There is a myth that suffering creates art,
Words wrung like blood from our veins
And lines of poetry scarred across our bodies.
We turn the victims into heroes,
And arrange them by how deep their wounds are—
As though the more they suffered,
The more it all meant.
I would like to reframe that:
The suffering is meaningless;
The healing creates art.
It is not how deep we fall
But the strength it takes to climb back up,
And every fragmented stanza
Is an attempt to get to our feet.
Healing creates art,
Not suffering.
Do not thank our pain
For the words we have spoken.
They were not its doing,
But ours.
Do not give my demons any credit;
They do not deserve a single accolade.
My therapist has sparked more poems
Than my bullies ever did,.
And I have never written a poem
While lying on my bathroom floor in agony—,
Only while getting back up again.
About the Author – Thistle Dunsmuir
Thistle Dunsmuir (they/them) is a queer, non-binary poet currently residing on the unceded traditional territories of the Lək̓ʷəŋən speaking people. Their work focuses on themes of identity, mental health and healing. They have been published in Vagabond City Press, Queer Toronto Literary Magazine, Sea and Cedar Magazine, and Eavesdrop Literary Magazine.
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- Poems by Thistle Dunsmuir
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