It seems we always have a blizzard in early March, but really, I’d rather not. How about you?
PHOTO :: DOUG CRITES-MOORE
Uninitiated Me
When Your Face Came Rising by Yevgeny Yevtushenko
When your face came rising
above my crumpled life,
the only thing I understood at first
was how meager were all my possessions.
But your face cast a peculiar glow
on forests, seas, and rivers,
initiating into the colors of the world
uninitiated me.
I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid,
the unexpected dawn might end
ending the discoveries, tears, and raptures,
but I refuse to fight this fear.
This fear-I understand-
is love itself. I cherish this fear,
not knowing how to cherish,
I, careless guardian of my love.
This fear has ringed me tightly.
These moments are so brief, I know,
and for me the colors will disappear
when once your face has set.
When Doug and I were first dating, he made a point of showing me this poem. I assumed it was my face which cast a glow upon his crumpled life and, naturally, I fell in love with him. Now we've been married 33-plus years and I'm suddenly realizing it wasn't about me, except that he loved it and he wanted to share it with me and I guess that's just as good as having a glowing face.
(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)
All is well
Death is Nothing at All by Henry Scott Holland
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.
(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)
She beckons
She beckons ... pink lipstick never fails in its allure.
Click HERE to see Tiny Tim singing Tiptoe Through The Tulips, on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In