Friday, August 5, 2011

"If This Should Be, I Say:

You of my heart!"*

I miss you,
the waves crashing
on the backs of our heads...

your blood spilling in the parking lot
racing in circles
of bright drops flying
trying to find the long-beloved,
now-forgotten place

I wrapped you up warm,
said I'd never run away
Even as my feet were already
jumping forth into that autumn.

What will I do when you leave
for all the more beautiful places?
When it all comes again
The price of adventure, solitude
and fulfillment, the fruit of abandonment.
And thus,
the world will avenge.

Then, comes the quiet thought,
of a solution rooted in failure,
and its companion:
abject imprisonment.
But just a thought,
Never a wish.

Outside of myself,
Everywhere is too far away. But yet,
Nothing can be held so tight
without bursting into hundreds,
Thousands of streaking shrapnels.

And so,
I am always letting go.

All life is letting go
Never holding onto anything,
Not even a breath.

* ee cummings. sonnets/unrealities xi

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