Friday, February 14, 2014

Take my arm


I'm sure I have referenced here before the poems of Grace Schulman, she who in inhabits that sweet melancholy place between "the necessity and impossibility of belief." Between, too, the necessity and impossibility of love.

Belief and love. They have so much in common, yet are as distinct as self and other.

How strange that two people can hitch their lives together, on a whim, say, or wild intuition, knowing little if nothing about the other's hiddenness, about things that even the other does not fully understand and couldn’t articulate even if he did. Blind, deaf, dumb, they leap into the future, hoping to fly, and, for a moment, soaring, like Icarus, sunward.

The necessity of wax. The impossibility of wax.

We "fall" in love, they say.

Schulman: "We tramp the road/ of possibility. Give me your arm."