Poem for April 4

A THREAD OF LIGHT VII.                                                                    

                        And what is love?  To be human

                        is to allow It to pierce you with

                        Its tender arrows, though you

                        feel certain you will die.

                        Only we don’t die.  We live

                        more vividly.  Life without Love

                        is like a streambed through

                        which no water runs, like a

                        house without a clock that

                        chimes the hours so musically

                        that you wait eagerly for the

                        next one.  Or like an afternoon

                        sitting on the bank of a small

                        river without sun to intensify

                        the green of grasses and mosses,

                        to lift the warm brown of the

                        sand, patient between the black

                        hulks of rocks, into view.

                                

Connections that stay also change.

They begin in the unlikeliest way,

persist against a lifetime of odds,

then keep transforming themselves

and us.  The point is: we’re hooked.

There’s no way we will let go

if we’re honest with ourselves.

That’s all that is asked, but it’s

non-negotiable.  You see, if we

deny what we feel, it turns ugly,

and sooner or later our souls die.

Acting on what we feel isn’t

required, though it helps if we

can find a reasonable, mutually

agreed upon channel where

feelings may safely move and

not undo us.  Putting the fire

in a fennel stalk is only a

temporary solution.  Mutual

work for the sake of others

works well.  The fire has to be

delivered.  Use it to wake

people up.  What else are our

lives for except to give away

everything we’ve learned?  Make

every single suffering step count.

Then die happy.

Judy Hogan