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The Lovers

Today I can write the hardest lines,
write, for example, ‘the spangled hurts
of the cobalt night cannot infect

this perfect heart.’ Nor the miracle
of sky deny even the oldest dreams
of love, and if little by little,

or even all at once, if you should find
that you no longer love me,
I will find a way to praise your mouth

and all the stars we made our own
every time we kissed.
Now in the neglected bed-sits

and attics of our younger days,
other bodies will come to fill those places
with their own peculiar loving.

And if you say, ‘all is gone to dust,’
I will remind you of the boy
you wished to make your own –

even if only for a day. Oh we know,
there is no going back, not today
or tomorrow, not in this long life-time,

but if we meet again, somewhere
on the path, we will know of no shame
or bitterness that would stifle

the beating heart. ‘I once loved a man,’
you say, ‘but it was long ago
and madness of a kind.’

Today I can write the hardest lines,
‘if it is madness to love
after all these years, then let my love

be foolish, but true to the years
of longing, loneliness and despair.’
A woman I once loved as a girl

sent me a kiss down the telephone
lines, it was enough to find it there
among all the rubble, failure and defeat.

Sublime.

It makes me want to read it over and over (and I
generally don't like reading things over and over!).

Thanks for the gift.

Sherry

Hi, again, Marcan ~

There's a certain unbittered melancholy in your writing that really appeals to me. From what I'm seeing, you're able to hold on to the good and let the rest fall away without blame and without tainting your view of the world. It's a beautiful quality. I see your appreciation and gratitude emerge virtually unscathed from amidst the rubble that life will always bring.


~ Lizzy

I love your poem marcan...