i am wandering through the most wonderful website. this is the treasure of the internet. imagine that i might jump on a plane to new york and spend hours enjoying all it had to offer… but miss all this…
it’s amazing. and to think i was only looking for a piece of work by e.e.cumings. i found a very intersting essay on why e.e.cummings should be spelt with capitals but i refuse to buy into that.
i’m not a big fan of Capitals myself. i think that they sometimes make words seem unfriendly. not all words. but some.
this is the poem i was looking for.
e. e. cummings – i carry your heart with me(i carry it in (92)
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
today is parachute day. i am a bit silly because i left my ticket at home i think. or perhaps in the car. either way i will need to look for it again. silly me. i am sometimes a silly girl and last night i was distracted. i wrote in my journal. i prayed in silence. i sat in silence. i dwelt in silence and thought about God. but it didn’t make me feel any closer. not as close as i wanted to be. selfish am i that it is never enough. i thought about lunch. i thought about seeing my mum after work, on her knees in the garden as i carried compost. i thought about introducing new people into the culture of my mother’s house. explaining that hope is fragile and fleeting… that she would change her ways, that my grandfather would change his ways, that my uncle might also change. i understand exactly why she feels the way that she does about the way that my grandfather has treated her. but i fear so much that this cycle will perpetuate in our family. sometimes we can only become that which we hate. we become so consumed by it that it is all we know. and what we know we are. i think that i feel lonely because i do not know if my sisters recognise the knife-edge on which we sit. already roni is hardened and distant .. she is busy making a new life. and fair enough for her, but not for me. it’s not that i don’t want love and marriage and kids and all those wonderful things.. but i don’t want to start from new. i want to take broken pieces and heal them. i want to bring together where there has previously been torn edges. but i am at a total loss as to how to even begin.
i have no power in my family = this much i realise. my opinions are now brushed over as tainted by my ‘religious’ beliefs.
and this is probably the way that it should be. that i not be consumed by the anguish of my mother or my father, but choose to start anew. and that is a religious belief. i know that i would lose my focus if that was all i thought i had.
anyway. packed for parachute last night when i got home. went to bed. journalled. prayed. then got an awful fright when a woman drunk off her feet drove her car into teh back of a car parked outside our driveway. she was so far gone that she didn’t even bother to use her brakes. bit of a mess. she had her mother and son in the car and it’s a miracle that noone was hurt. we are so reckless with this small window of time we are given. it makes me think of stevie. soon it will be his one year anniversary. at 19 all hope and promise gone.
i know that i will remember him this year. but will i in two? will i in ten? i like to think i would but i know the fickleness of the heart. the inadequacy of man. and what is there to dwell on in his life but tragedy and hope left inside it’s vessel anyway??
i am melancholy today. it should not be so. the trouble with instant coffee is that it leaves your tongue feeling heavy and covered in chemical wash. it does not retain the warmth of espresso, nor the creamy aroma, the aromatic linger nor the romance of holding a cup in your hands and removing the foam from the top of your lip with your tongue.
instant coffee is what you drink alone, in the dark when you are needing some reminder of romance that never quite works.