by Rachel Tanner
She used to be a wildfire. A firecracker.
Rachel Tanner has been drawing from film to inspire her poetry. This week, in honor of the upcoming PRECIPICE release, we have chosen her piece inspired by The Woman in the Window (2021) as it invokes a certain lethargy and ennui, that makes way for a shift towards light and hope, which we hope to see for our own future.
Screen
An agoraphobic woman living alone in New York begins spying on her new neighbors, only to witness a disturbing act of violence (IMDB).
Page
"What You See Isn't What You Get"
After The Woman in the Window (2021)
In a brownstone in Manhattan, she sits
at the window and watches
for signs of life beyond her own.
Pills for the pain. Drink for the past.
She can't step outside and hasn't felt
fresh air on her skin for years.
It shows in her face,
pale and tired. No one understands.
No one even tries.
Her therapist is a dick and makes her feel
like the world is her fault. Like all the bad energy
trickled out into the air from her heart
and onto the breeze, spreading
like wildfire.
She used to be a wildfire. A firecracker.
A child psychologist secure in her
decisions. Secure in her marriage
and excited about the future.
When she calls the police because she thinks
she sees a crime across the street, she is
brushed off. Agoraphobia is a mental illness,
after all. And who wants to trust
someone unstable? Who wants to admit
that most of us are different in some way
but not everyone can see the holes
in their minds where the darkness seeps in?
She's mentally ill they say. She
can't be trusted. You know how they are.
No one gets it. There is lonely, and then
there is this crushing weight on top of her
begging her to go into remission. Begging
her to go outside.
She used to be in love with the world
but now she sits and she stares and she
speculates about things that are
none of her business.
Someone takes a picture of her while she sleeps.
Someone has broken his bail conditions
and pays her rent from the basement
in a house that is too big to be comforting.
She wants to die. She wants to end.
She films a goodbye on her phone
but at the last minute,
finds reasons to live. Breathing becomes
easier. Life becomes bearable. But
children don't always mind their manners
and the boy across the street
has a burgeoning taste for blood. He tries
to finish what she started. Tries to push and pull
a life away from a woman who hasn't left
the house in years. Tries to deem
her obsolete.
.
Later,
there isn't a day
that passes now in which
she doesn't consider herself lucky. Sober,
she moves on. Happy, she moves away.
Love, the world keeps spinning.
Dear light, she wishes you well.
Rachel Tanner is a writer for Radical Art Review.