When you didn’t know me
when I didn’t know you
I read your diary, I read your thoughts
“They’re good together because they’re both
hot wired crazy for this world” you remarked
years later we’re all older and I think on that
recalling the friends you had who were
happy, congenial, fit in, laughed at jokes
how hard it was for me to approach normal
almost every day out of seven attempts
I have always flown with muscular ravens
they get me, they understand what it’s like
waking up on the wrong side of life
hurting for no good damn reason than
the plague of the fitful black dog
it’s that strangeness, becomes a succor
to people ill wrought
you wouldn’t understand that
when you didn’t know me
when I didn’t know you
like people in an arranged marriage
may grow close or further apart
divining hate or love in toss of dice
like trees planted in the same orchard
will lean toward sun or embrace moonlight
their fruit sweet or tart, bitter or succulent
a storm wavering on the nebulous
wondering whether to blow everything to pieces
or let it sit, thinking
it’s safe, safe at last
when we never are.
I keep coming back to these lines, scrolling back up again and again;
“it’s that strangeness, becomes a succor
to people ill wrought”
Yes, there’s a piece of the puzzle of how your poetry and story have so touched and inspired me, that succor.
“Succor” has touched something in me. I wouldn’t be surprised if some new poems write themselves in my hand, as a result.
Send them me?
A fine analogy
wow. this was super! So, so good! 🙂
Dear Carol Anne I really appreciate you reading this and commenting – thank you so much