Final Notations

it will not be simple, it will not be long
it will take little time, it will take all your thought

it will take all your heart, it will take all your breath
it will be short, it will not be simple

it will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart
it will not be long, it will occupy your thought
as a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied
it will take all your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you
you are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you
you are taking parts of us into places never planned
you are going far away with pieces of our lives

it will be short, it will take all your breath
it will not be simple, it will become your will

Adrienne Rich

Advertisements

Amber

Some wounds weep precious through the generations.

They glaze and harden, heal themselves into history.

 

What was mere sap matures like blood into air to darken

and burnish.  Sometimes the grim Baltic rolls the scars

 

to shape those jewels women love to wear; especially

treasured where they hold a thing that was living once,

 

something with quick, venated wings which happened

by and thought the wound looked beautiful and sweet

 

and that, like other wounds, it should be acknowledged

somehow and,  if only for a moment, touched.

 

John Glenday