“I understood how, when I left, I lost part of myself, but when I stayed I couldn’t stretch myself full’
-Ann Pancake in ‘Strange as this Weather Has Been”
Morning marriage
He says it is a conversation, this
war that rages in me
between the one who longs
to shed this skin, break free, emerge
as something new
and the one who needs to stay
connected to this branch
on which she’s grown.
They say you cannot force
a thing as beautiful as this
or it will not fly, but still
sometimes I wish for something tragic
to ease departure’s pain.
Today I saw
these angels on my shoulders,
each whispering their blessing, ‘Grow’
where once I imaged devils tempting me,
and I wondered, like a virgin, this implausibility
of joining what appears to be as incompatible as these
incessant voices tugging at my heels, that
great wedge of freedom in the sky.
The lion in the children’s story loves
the bird, yet sets it free
to find its true north home when spring
seduces with its song, his
love more potent than his heartache.
And I wonder,
Can this blossoming of mine be winged too?
Might I sink it deeply in that soil
for a season, let it bloom
where it is planted, drinking in the summer,
then cut it back to fit the pot,
to gather sunlight through
the winter on the sill?
Can these two selves marry
Walking hand in hand
Each valuing the other
Not an either/or of land or sea
but a moving tide
Away and close
Apart, together
Trusting this is not rejection, but embrace.
Afternoon Love – (after David Whyte)
This spring, which was hidden in her for so long
that even wanting to go look for it had gone,
is suddenly this well from which she drinks
thirstily, as if she hasn’t drunk for years
as she recalls the voice that sang before
she was driven underground
at last it was her weariness she listened to,
her heart, so long missing, refusing to go on,
(she’d simply had enough of drowning)
falling down, down into the center of her longing
kneeling at last to drink
from that cool spring that sets her free,
this place of deep aliveness that
urges her to live her life as if she deserved
to love what she so fiercely loves
as if her life depended on her saying ‘yes’
to that fertile sea.
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