Archives for the month of: February, 2007

you ask me how

i know when to go

and i tell you that leaves always

know autumn

Where did you go? Amidst the depths of this flesh and simple matter

I wonder for you, wandering

aimless yet hoping to find your light-the ball of exploratory genius to explain all my whys away

I have loved you in my best way, you surprised me by suggesting it wasn’t enough 

How can a heart pretend?
Lest it is the only piece of us we cannot manipulate into our own disguise, hopeful it will hide our shame and fear and make us whole again.

mince these emotions into tiny spores of the past we were happy to out live

let them dance above my heart and head and all the foolish ways I sought to control the life of my own happiness

set them free, and with them, I as well

I keep the following poem in my wallet with me. Most times I forget I have it, but when I remember it, it always makes me smile. As I leave today for far-flung places in the other hemisphere, I thought it was appropriate to put it here, as a reminder that life is worth the living.

OutThere
you’ll see it all.
The floating ends will meet and mend, and you will be yourself;
your fully-formed, though always changing, self of selves.
Every clumsy backward look will pay for itself.
Every tear you’ve cried, or wanted to cry, will set your broken bones.
The rips in your heart will no longer need to be guarded by steel girders,
banyan trees,
or even rice paper.
Not so much as a dragonfly’s wing will you need
to cover the bludgeoned place,
to protect the private you you love so much and hope to save intact
from what has seemed years of relentless pummelling.

 

Go and live and love in peace, my friend.

 

for surely there is love to enfold you,
and life to be feasted upon;
our portion is boundless.
Love will be the more you’ve wanted.
You will know it when you see it.
You will love yourself as no lover has ever had the courage to love;
and the warmth you’ve wanted will line your pillowcases,
dance upon your windowsill, and hide at the ends of your socks
awaiting your toes.

 

~Deborah Mears~