Douglas Thompson writes,
Here is the 34th poem in my 52-poem sequence (one a week) for 2013, followed by some illumination and reflection:
To love is to sleep on the floor
is to cut open my veins for you,
notching up the hours
on the bark of my own skin
to suffer in this prison of bone and sinew.
I have tried to leave and stop loving
I have to tried to walk away weeping
into the forgiving darkness of some other destiny
as if misery could grow into myth
and loneliness blossom
into some obscure beauty
this is the prison of my weakness
my affection for you, persistent tree
whose roots I cannot kill.
humanity, kneel with me
you have my shape
here, crouching in this snowstorm
of time and pain
what guides us across centuries
is not the laughter, the sunlight of love
but everything else
what survives our arguments
the violent clashing of hearts
is passing the test
there is a path through Hell, uncharted
except by the heart
by which no man can pass
except blindfold, and in love.
(-27th January 2001).
I don’t think this is the best poem I have ever written by any means, but I can’t seem to discard it from this sequence, because some of the ideas and expressions within it have gone in burning in my head over the years. (Read more)