Tuesday, December 09, 2014

She said parting was such sweet sorrow

But what does she know?

She just rested for a while at a window, at a time, when resting was easy,

and loving a stranger in an alleyway beneath you, —not just stranger

but a wild enemy of your own old family! —was commonplace love,

the sorts they write about in fairy tragedies, tragic tales.

Parting's not like that at all.

Every breath you exhale is less of you in there and

More of you in the world, more to less remember

wherever it was, wherever it's been. We

Don't think anything of it. No, really, we

Don't think much of it at all. But

I like to think how sometimes I said goodbye

to a breath who saved my life at one time

when I inhaled it, and how I hope one day

as that breath travels around the world, through

plants and streams and gills and clouds and fires,

it keeps reminding everyone about how

it saved my life that one time, that one day,

even though I didn't really know it at the time,

since it just seemed normal for every breath to be

The One who saved my life. So, no,

I don't think parting is sorrowful at all.

Maybe it saves more than us, more than all of us,

to let go of something who saved us,

so maybe it will go out and save any other

it must.

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