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BY
LOVE BEGUILED, Edited Version 2013
Don't
get me wrong.
If
I appear distracted,
Look
knocked out by the light,
You
make a very strong appearance,
A
singularity into whose inexplicable center my mind spins.
I
remember once, years ago,
When
I landed in New York,
After
living a year and half in Europe,
How
the neon of America,
It
appeared so awesomely garish, and bright.
Yet,
when I close my eyes and picture it,
All
seems pale before the radiance of your face.
That
we, two people, would meet for morning breakfast,
Look
out the café's windows at the steady rain,
Then,
under the cover of our umbrellas,
Walk
here and there, along avenues of inviting store fronts,
Have
an early coffee and tea,
Or
do I have the hour wrong,
Might
the time better be described as brunch,
Or
was it at an hour still later, and in another place,
In
the afternoon, say somewhere on the Turnpike,
Or
when we stopped at a crossroad to check our map,
At
first I thought it might be vapors, something in the air,
Then
I mulled the question over once again, and figured,
It
must have been an electromagnetic charge,
And
I wondered,
Had
a fluke momentary electricity overwhelmed us?
Or
perhaps, was it, cupid himself who truly stole
Behind the fixtures of the thoroughfare?
I
thought I had spied him crouched near a mailbox,
At
start of our walk on Main Street in Point Pleasant!
The
winged child pulled from his quiver, arrows,
Their
heads were dipped in love potion,
– My
thinking ran to the lines of the ancient story --
That
once he aimed and shot them,
Grievously
their tear into our mortal flesh.
I
knew his wound would make for a ruckus extraordinaire.
I
felt that expectations were suddenly turning great.
This
romance presses hard upon me.
I
find myself bound up, an affection drives me
It
barks a claim beyond everyday physical experience.
I
am being compelled to express it.
To
gain your confidence,
To
prove my mind sound, not at loss to reason,
I
couch my verse
In
a mood commonly called the subjunctive.
Though
the posing of this frame of mind
Has
little usage in today's English,
I
try its grammar, or, is it, pretend to use it, so to temper
My
over-wrought emotion and to quiet,
Soften
my immodest and elevated parlance.
Were
I not to employ this principle of language,
One
might believe my love for you be shameless.
The
mood, also, provides proper relief
For
the all, too-far-out attitude, the conceit,
Which
has me begging
The
suspension of common sense and natural order
In
order to pose an audacious proposition
As
having a semblance of truth,
That
I have come to possess a gift, as it were,
That
Higher Power had granted me prophetic mantle.
Understand.
I solely express my own wish and desire,
That
all I say remains contingent,
The
frame of mind here still hypothetical and dependent.
I
do not use the imperative, I make no demand.
I
have no special outcome in mind.
I
dwell in fortress called Zion,
And
come from it in the Pilgrims' coat and hat.
I
look in the mirror and see their collar and tie.
And,
like those passengers on board the Mayflower,
I
know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who
among your former friends has ever said it better?
And
were you to live a long and hearty life
As
all actuaries predict, what future friend
Might
ever phrase it near as well as I have put it?
And
if you ask the source of this lyric
That
it arrive, as I propose, transcending the usual,
Everyday
manner and common syntax, I must rejoin
That
Sentiment Supreme, Him, the real pilot,
That
when we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed
Jersey's
North shore highways, while the soft brown,
Oh
the magic, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And
somewhat golden light accented the downpours,
Whose
constant unleashed falling, more
Like
rain the Lord had promised Noah,
Than
any explicable, temporary phenomenon of weather.
Wie
es eigentlich gewesen.
“The
carriage held but just us -- and immortality.”
That
when we traveled our first day together,
Though
it is months ago, and now becomes the years,
All
the time which has passed, I suggest
That
it feels shorter than the day, that day
I
first surmised the engine's mounts
Were
tied to point, and that we, too, were belted, on board,
Hurled
straight ahead in solemn league with Eternity.
Mercy,
let it be known, Mercy freely bestowed,
Not
for this, the one earthly moment,
But
for our children’s children,
Drawn
and signed, and at once delivered,
A
grant for us and them, settled in this verse,
And
from where, you might ask, derives this trust,
Sure
as Word once promised Abraham?
I
hear the text my grandmother spoke.
I
see her at work when she ironed and folded,
Yet
while she stooped to lay the laundry
Into
the wicker oval basket at her feet,
And
I, the child, I watched her nod the affirmative nod,
I
saw that as she smiled a light had joined her face,
Today
I repeat to you what she said to me,
“And
I will bless them that bless you,
And
curse him that curses you...”
And
then the line which revealed,
She
told me how the stanza means,
I
hear the words my grandmother said,
That
in you, I say through you, my darling, “... in you
“Shall
all the families of the earth be blessed.”
