Hero's Final Vigil
Distances
The distance between you-and-me is less
than the ens and ems between these letters,
yet in the minds’ eye, Planck’s scale grows too vast
a chasm; illusion clouds thought, thought clouds
heart and head alike. We part never to
touch again—Hero losing Leander,
whose delusion of drowning blinds him to
her lamp evermore. The drowned cannot swim
nor circumnavigate the Hellespont . . .
I am no Leander, she no Hero,
and yet we play the drama, live their myth
as though that were real to this world. Love dies
a million deaths in such tragedies—Oh!
But love births itself a billion times in Life!
©David M Pitchford
10 April 2009
Brick and Mortar
In the tower, with light lit, I wonder
is that swim frightening for both of us?
I feel as if I had jumped in myself,
floundered against the tides to make my way
through the year we lost, when you couldn’t swim.
I wonder if a bridge will be built now;
if either of us have “it”—the patience
to allow the time for new construction?
Love—trust, the essential brick and mortar
that may not guarantee us happiness
yet will provide us the chance for success.
Growing apart—growing up, letting go
only to find one another again
may be a fantasy; may be a dream—
and the way to keep promises alive.