Would, I might have been
Your bed on so dark a night;
Dark that you would sleep.
Rest now weary child.
In my keep, upon my breast
Rest your frightened head.
Calm indeed, you’ll sleep,
No want or need forgotten
You’ll weep, as I said,
And your soul will heal.
Drink you, deep, of comfort, child
And again be whole
Instead, not broken.
When you wake and smile at me,
Look into my eyes,
Sister, I would see
You’d gaze up and smile at me
A smile I’d prize
Above all pleasure
In this, would grace and measure
Ever fill your cup.
A reflection of the following sonnet which was written very long ago.
It’s a good thing I don’t have to choose between the two versions of this piece. I love them both in equal measure at different times.
(sent along to Mac, 10/10/2012)
My, after being dreadfully ill, it is soooo very lovely to come back and read these lovely words. I’m smelling lavender scented, cool fresh linens from my childhood while the antique ceiling fan gently murmurs overhead. I feel…..almost well!
I am glad to know you are feeling better. Every day I marvel at how fragile life is. And….
How many of us, I wonder, have felt this ache? The heart truly broken. Yearning for requitude. Yearning to mend. Yearning to be filled once more…?
I’d wager the number is higher than many might guess.
When I began this site, I had no call to reach anyone than my dearest. Now, I sometimes feel I might like to reach–to touch, perhaps even to comfort–these souls.
I just had an interesting thought in the form of a question:
Some of us–perhaps most of us–begin life in an ordinary way; that is to say our lives, even our natures, may be quite ordinary. Is it possible that true love is the very element that transforms a person from the ordinary to the extraordinary?
I do remember my young self as… while not quite ordinary, perhaps in many respects much more so. Once I fell so deeply in love, nothing was ever the same. Nothing internal. Not the outside world. Everything changed. Everything was different.
After that moment, All my thoughts and feelings were more complicated, more deeply considered. Life was different; nor did I approach it in the same way as before.
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