I Ask the Impossible
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Love me when all desire is gone.
Love me with the single-mindedness of a monk.
When the world in its entirety,
and all that you hold sacred, advise you
against it: love me still more.
When rage fills you and has no name: love me.
When each step from your door to your job tires you—
love me; and from job to home again.
Love me when you’re bored—
when every woman you see is more beautiful than the last,
or more pathetic, love me as you always have:
not as admirer or judge, but with
the compassion you save for yourself
in your solitude.
Love me as you relish your loneliness,
the anticipation of your death,
mysteries of the flesh, as it tears and mends.
Love me as your most treasured childhood memory—
and if there is none to recall—
imagine one, place me there with you.
Love me withered as you loved me new.
Love me as if I were forever—
and I will make the impossible
a simple act,
by loving you, loving you as I do.
This beautiful poem by Ana Castillo was added by Irving in comment section of the post title Love, Truth, Malice
Labels: Ana Castillo, Literature, Poetry
posted by S A J Shirazi @ Wednesday, November 30, 2011,
2 Comments:
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At 9:43 PM PKT,
Deb Sistrunk said...
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Wow. There is so much fire in this poem. Awesome!
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At 6:36 PM PKT,
robertatforsythe said...
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I am with the poem's sentiments. A tough one to try. For another take on the same, find T. S. Elliot's Little Gidding
"Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame".
Or W. H. Auden's Amor Loci which uses a landscape about a dozen miles from home to the same effect.
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