Tuesday, 27 February 2007

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.



imfunnytoo said...

This is a wonderful post. Thanks for sharing it.

seahorse said...

Thanks. Sometimes less is more, and this is where I'm at right now.

Interrobang said...

Seahorse -- Thanks very much for your nice comment on my latest post. I've been thinking about these issues quite a lot lately, and I have to say, reinventing myself as a contractor-slash-sole proprietor has been the best thing I've done professionally since grad school.

If you'd like some advice on how to spin your resume (and I mean that in a good way), feel free to drop me a line at interroblog at gmail dot com.

Give us bread, and give us roses (or, in this case, daffodils)!

fluttertongue said...

I read a touching article on grief recently that used the example of a ball in a jar, the ball being the grief and the jar being the person. Grief is thought by many to decrease over time - thus the ball gets smaller. This is not the case: the grief stays the same size - it is the life that needs to get bigger in order to reduce the relative size of the grief. But, I guess from your blog that you already worked that out.

seahorse said...

That's a great analogy and very helpful. Thanks