2007-09-25 - 2:53 a.m.
This was initially called "Return" and ended with the line "What I need to return" But I have edited it and added just a few lines and now it has evolved into "Return to Love" (with respect to Marianne Williamson for stealing her wonderful phrase! Imitation is the greatest praise!) I was happy to find this poem scrawled on the back of an old bill. It was written last Spring for Art in an expression of why I did not want a physical relationship, and an affirmation of why he too was avoiding temptation at that time and HE TOO did not want to succumb. He shared that quest for something deeper and more lasting- seeking a strong relationship with God and a foundation of strength of self and his own values which is why we got along so well in our brokenness.
It is nice to see him actualize his talents and our friendship was positive for that time. But then it changed and I think I became more than a support, but an unhealthy object of his desire and he started to lose self in seeking a savior- seeking an enabler to take him away from the painful responsibility he faces in life. He was then seeking that elixer...and I think I responded to the release of tension and escape in that for a short time, struggling with our humanity as we all do. We became lovers for a short while, in addition to friends- but it was not a responsible choice for that time so I stopped that. Indeed however it was a beautiful relationship until he couldn't respect my boundaries and give me space for my growth- and it was clear he was losing his sense of self at some level as well as he seemed to think his happiness was dependent somehow on me. Yet I couldn't offer what he wanted, and he couldn't offer what I needed. SO I thought of naming this piece "For Art" RETURN TO LOVE
Seeking talk with others To fill time So I don't talk to myself in the compelled crazy way If talking to self is a sign of mental illness I am far gone and quiet listening is what I need to return It was isolation which brought us to this state of disconnected broken, visceral existence EAT SLEEP SEX Basic instincts stronger than reason Yet all suppressed subjugated to the mirage presented to the world My evenings of late have been filled with temptations of touch the escape of elixir of excitement evoked through words woven on tongues poetic seeking salvation of salivation licking and lapping like dogs at the bone substitute for being alone avoiding writing space for self avoiding the painful process of pruning away at the trunk cutting open the cankers fearful of what infection may ooze forth and not be able to be contained maintained healed So seeking talking to others so as to avoid talking to myself For if talking to self is a sign of mental illness I am far gone Yet Quiet listening is what I need to return Return to love of self of God within and without myself To return to a state of grace beyond both instinct and reason in which true creation bursts forth like the mystery of the blooming Cherry blossoms, so beautiful and fragrant in their abundant glory that we long to capture such creation and each year anticipate their return along with the thousands of others drawn to the beauty we can not quite touch but continue to try
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