Things which are not said.

Upon that point, says Dante,
where two circles intersect

God’s unwavering gaze is fixed,
it so inspires His love.

-Mary Barnard.

Thank God for poetry

The feeling of being so close to what my heart so yearns for, and knowing it is not my time.

This time is a wrestling time, this coming home surrounded by lovers

and I feel alone.

This is right. I do grieve, and the perfumes of other humans are all over my clothes, but this is right.

Echoes: “Kaeti, please don’t be afraid to be alone.”

I feel dry, and above ground. And soothed, to know that somewhere there is a dripping fountain that cries all the time, that cries for me while I sit here unable to cry, that cries for me while I am laughing and buoyant on the ocean of tears inside me, that cries for me while I learn a way that doesn’t melt into the waters but crosses the drawbridge and looks man in the eye.

I am growing a different kind of skin.

[Edit: I just put on Pandora, and the first song it gives me: Secret Fountain.]


~ by Arrrow Marie on February 3, 2010.

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