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And when they get
to this part of the story,
when the anthropologists
of all feelings ever felt
digging through the legacy of pages
get as deep as
this uncelebrated chapter,
may they judge it
not solely on the reasons why
or the absence of one that’s
socially acceptable,
not by the consequences of
a humanness not strong enough
to stand by a resolution,
or point their fingers at
the clicking of dominoes
tumbling forward to knock down
everything on their path,
unresisting and unconcerned
about right and wrong,
gravity the only master
they recognize;
because truly,
our actions here
will have no merit
under those standards.
They will have to narrate
this swatch of time simply as,
“This is what happened.”
and just try to be as faithful
to the facts as possible.
Only then can we have
a fighting chance to
have our beauty acknowledged.
Farther than acknowledged
but not as far as justified:
a few paces past forgiven.
If you frame us against
these ruins,
all we would be
is ugly.
But against a white wall
of neither premise nor prejudice,
we are the stuff of heroes.
Only then will we be able
to believe we did something here
that is worth the ink it takes
to be dug up,
later,
when you and I are dust
and our love is echoes,
by those who will dare make sense
of what came between
the before and after,
and how we lived inside it,
for as short as it endured,
as if it were
a city of centuries.
.
I think of John Berger’s paragraph: “What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”
I did sense the “enjoying a fleeting thing” tone, but there was a certain resonance that reminded me of Berger’s words (suspect I may just be reflecting upon the nature of love and what constitutes permanence and if any of us can hope for such things).
An acknowledged sense of the impermanent nature of this affair of the heart coupled with a desire to still be counted amongst the catalog of emotions of the human heart. I love the concept of catalogers of human emotion, sifting through the wreckage at some far off date.
Iris, sweetheart this is outstanding!
Know this Iris……things and time and place happen…. we as a people are involved all in the love of life…so therefore, for me i see it as such, but just think a bit ahead ……everyone wins, even through the hurt and distrust, maybe that wasn’t the perfect match …cause, you get what cha paid for!!!!! Don’t want to be coarse but, if the parting of ways was not mutual ….then our reliable friend steps in …..KARMA ~ she’s a “BITCH”……beware people….but indeed you can continue to love, cause we all need somebody to love yall !!!!!!!!!!! Iris, i got choo boo ♥ LOL!!!!
Thank you for sharing ,you just gave me a dose of inspiration……….I get it, and i receive it ~
Hey sweetheart, the poem did speak to me. It was beautiful. However, the beginning was unclear. I did realize what you were doing toward the middle. Loved the ending. Thank you for sharing! XOXOXO
Exquisite!
Thank You So Much My Dear Sister… Love You… ♥
I once wrote a piece called, “Love In between” and i have come to know that nothing good really is spoken of right away, that humans always most times always “Missed”! Why, because we have the need to have and want legends, stories that need to told and its okay, only its not fair to the individuals whose lives/love are not celebrated now!
Iris, it definitely does speak to me– I feel like a part of it in many places. The highlights, for me, are the word “humanness”, when a coward would have said “humanity”; lines 15 – 17 are amazing; “a few paces past forgiven” is a great phrase. My only criticisms are the use of “swatch of time”, just because I don’t think it’s as musical as the rest of the piece; and it sounds great all the way through, until you get to the end– the end has more power than the first fourteen or so lines, as if you perhaps wrote it in more than one sitting. The voice is the same the whole way through, just a little stronger in the last half.
But, yes, I definitely felt spoken to. It’s beautiful, as always, and I thanks you for sharing with me. ♥
Beautiful. I like it, but I’m not sure what it is supposed to convey. All your pieces are beautiful, Babygirl. But that’s the good thing about art. It speaks to each of us in a different way.
Very post apocalyptic and accepting of fate’s destiny. What we see here in the convoluted eye of humanity in a petri dish, resembles nothing in what the all seeing eye of God sees. Though it all looks for naught at times, God sees the bigger picture, and loves us anyway. The message I got, always deep, always universal and always, Iris, magnificent.
Iris. At first I was confused at the beginning but I think it’s because you said it may be confusing. LOL. I went over it again and going by the title itself explains what you are saying. I go through the same thing sometimes.. because what’s clear to us may be unclear to others because we live in a different and more advanced world as poets. thank you for sharing with me. You are very talented with imagery, a unique and beautiful poet. I love your work. Keep em coming it’s most definitely Cognac for the soul.
They will have to narrate this swatch of time simply as, “This is what happened.”
…
If you frame us against these ruins, all we would be is ugly. But against a white wall of neither premise nor prejudice, we are the stuff of heroes.
This to me is … the love affair in Greece, a WWII memoir of soldiers and love in foreign languages. I believe the title is perfect. Not sure if this is where your head was at, but this is how it ‘played’ for me. Perfection. Depth in understanding of love gone but never forgotten; too misunderstood and forbidden to be accepted no matter how beautiful. Something that was destined as to be and not to be.
“when the anthropologists
of all feelings ever felt
digging through the legacy of pages”
…So eloquent from the start! this grabbed me! I like this!
The picture goes very well with the poem!! Especially because it’s peppered with references to time; and the sea as well as Masjid have a common color (blue) and each represents something timeless…
I can relate
two thumbs up! you really think the unthinkable, and write what seems to be “ordinary”, you are a great storyteller. one of a kind really!
Few could pen the perfect frame for this shot as you have. WOW, Iris, this is a truly magnificent write!
You are a cherished friend, Iris. Thank you for your beautiful spirit.
i’ve re-read the poem, and i’ve realized that what sums it up for me is this part
“They will have to narrate
this swatch of time simply as,
“This is what happened.”
and just try to be as faithful
to the facts as possible.
Only then can we have
a fighting chance to
have our beauty acknowledged.
Farther than acknowledged
but not as far as justified”
to me, this is what every director/actor/writer/poet/artist tries to do. he tries to capture a moment’s beauty through words, print or images, and let people see the raw beauty that he is seeing through his eyes and heart.. because of being enamored, what he strives is to convey it to people and try to give justice to it, but realizes that however eloquent or talented he is, there’s nothing that matches true beauty of that particular moment.. the bond between that moment and the artist..
love love Iris! =)