Take the word
of my pulse, loving and ordinary
From Implosions, Adrienne Rich
We cannot divulge secrets for there are none--
no formula, format or sense of organization.
Our conversations are ordinary in the way of
keeping a house secure, a life safe. We gather at the table
and sometimes talk, sometimes don’t, glancing occasionally
at the dirtied napkin or the fragmented plate.
It’s a love story that rode the river like a branch floating--
stopping in the corners, freeing, and moving again.
When we landed on the bank, the pulse drummed us closer
and we accepted the impulse, no longer impulsive, a matter
of consequence. This is not to say we don’t gather fire,
find it in the moments of shadow when I turn to you on a flight
across the world and you’re not there. But misery is not the secret either.
I can walk you anywhere I go and know you buy the warm cashews,
talk animatedly to the juice vendor who does not understand you
but learns your name.
This is the pulse for me. The way peace washes the inside of my mouth
tempering the fury, disarming the aftershock of memory which could have led
away but didn’t. I could live your life a little in just the way you do and you can
live mine, without having studied me. Take my word, not just my body,
take the belief in this and the hard hitch to the post just outside your door.
Any thing more would destroy me than the ordinariness of this is—
nothing more lustrous can reveal the course.
Causes Elmaz Abinader Supports