Poetry Sunday: To Be In Love by Gwendolyn Brooks
It's a bit late since Valentine's Day was last Wednesday, but here is a poem by American poet Gwendolyn Brooks that tries to express what it means to be in love.
The person in love no longer experiences things only through his/her own senses; the world is experienced through the senses of the loved one as well. Love expands our awareness of the world and makes us more open to empathize with both the joys and sorrows of others. Love, in short, makes us better, more complete human beings.
To Be In Love
by Gwendolyn Brooks
To be in love
Is to touch with a lighter hand.
The person in love no longer experiences things only through his/her own senses; the world is experienced through the senses of the loved one as well. Love expands our awareness of the world and makes us more open to empathize with both the joys and sorrows of others. Love, in short, makes us better, more complete human beings.
To Be In Love
by Gwendolyn Brooks
To be in love
Is to touch with a lighter hand.
In yourself you stretch, you are well.
You look at things
Through his eyes.
A cardinal is red.
A sky is blue.
Suddenly you know he knows too.
He is not there but
You know you are tasting together
The winter, or a light spring weather.
His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
Too much to bear.
You cannot look in his eyes
Because your pulse must not say
What must not be said.
When he
Shuts a door-
Is not there_
Your arms are water.
And you are free
With a ghastly freedom.
You are the beautiful half
Of a golden hurt.
You remember and covet his mouth
To touch, to whisper on.
Oh when to declare
Is certain Death!
Oh when to apprize
Is to mesmerize,
To see fall down, the Column of Gold,
Into the commonest ash.
He is not there but
You know you are tasting together
The winter, or a light spring weather.
His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
Too much to bear.
You cannot look in his eyes
Because your pulse must not say
What must not be said.
When he
Shuts a door-
Is not there_
Your arms are water.
And you are free
With a ghastly freedom.
You are the beautiful half
Of a golden hurt.
You remember and covet his mouth
To touch, to whisper on.
Oh when to declare
Is certain Death!
Oh when to apprize
Is to mesmerize,
To see fall down, the Column of Gold,
Into the commonest ash.
Powerful!
ReplyDeleteShe was quite a poet.
DeleteHow lovely! No matter that is a belated Valentine Day's celebration; love is in every day of the year. :-)
ReplyDeleteMy sentiment exactly!
DeleteThat is a deep poem - I say that from the aspect of someone fortunate enough to have been in love for almost 50 years.
ReplyDeleteMe, too. I think that is why this poem touched me so deeply.
Delete