Sylvia - share in one today!

In all the times I'd read, loved and appreciated Sylvia Plath, the time I spent learning, and reciting to the world, I could relate to all but one description. I knew the feeling of seeking solace in words, in hiding and in madness. I felt the eyeing of my scars, the suspended bell jar hovering above my head and the constant fear of its sudden decent: sending me back to

Ash, ash --
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there --

Around and around these lines swirled - blinding to all but me. Ah - but I am not alone... the ghost of Sylvia is with me.
And the lines that I could read but could not feel?

I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich.
I could hardly speak.

Sure, like everyone else I'd been at a loss for words, or forced the en-caging of my tongue, to prevent myself from telling some irritating person off. But have you ever felt as if your mouth is full of wire? Each word you stumble is like a pathetic cough, and each attempt slices your throat? Your chest begins to burn and each heart beat pumps pain?
Yes, I can finally relate... as that life slipped away.
I went to bring some comfort, but as I look back, it was to say my goodbyes. I had intended on breathing strength into her spirit and to tell her she was loved. But the barbed wire demons took my chance and permitted me to only choke, sob and eventually utter only the prayers of the rosary.
Then there was the passing.
I lost my voice and felt as if I were in a communist society. My thoughts remained simply thoughts.

This is yet another element of madness I share with my precious Sylvia, these actions and reactions, for she is living through me...

A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can
talk, talk, talk.

Yes my dearest, I am your creation. Share with me, what I share with her - the latest and greatest toy!

It's water-proof, shatterproof, proof
against fire and bombs through the
roof.

Sylvia Plath