A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long
at this moment to be older, or younger, or born
in any other nation, or any other time, or any other place.
They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking.
Their breaths together feed someone we do not know.
The Man sees the way his fingers move;
He sees her hands close around a book she hands to him.
They obey a third body that they share in common.
They have promised to love that body.
Age may come, parting may come, death will come.
A man and a woman sit near each other;
as they breathe they feed someone we do not know
Someone we know of, whom we have never seen
-- Robert Bly, from the collection "Ten Poems to Open your Heart" by Robert Housden
I am turning to poems this week. On the surface they allude to something, both farther in and farther out, something underneath, something behind...
...something wounding, like beauty.
...something comforting, like sadness.
...something glorious, like transcendence.
It will be a good week.
