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LOVE POEM

Sometimes, I wonder if I would know a beautiful thing if I saw it. So often, I was miserable when I was young, even in California with the ocean close and fat seals munching flatfish, tonguing urchins in their molars, sunning themselves pink by the sandy primrose. I ignored the whistle of the rock-faced mountain and her chorus of dry hills, walked past the blazing stars and lemons in dramatic ripe. I was so sad out west. The truth is I am most exquisite on the east coast, meaning I am in rhythm. I do not track the world by beauty but joy. That first bite into the soft carrot of tagine stew while a storm wailed over the East River. The misfit raccoon bouncing on trash bins in Central Park after we saw a Japanese play. We almost crashed a wedding that night at the Boathouse but lost our nerve. We were not dressed for the caper, but even this felt like rogue joy. Yes. It was joy, wasn’t it? Even if it was ugly, it was joy.

MEGAN FERNANDES

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When you find your people you’ll still look over your shoulder sometimes to see if you’re being followed. You’re hoping one or two people you don’t know will want to see where you’re going. When you find your people they won’t ask you where you came from because they’ll already know & if they don’t they’ll be busy putting good food on your plate & asking you if you’re hungry or broke. When you find your people they’ll tell you  to use any bathroom you want, marry anybody you want, work side-by-side for long hours with full wages without any fear of being harmed.  When you find your people they’ll throw their star to you, offer you  their love song & say you need to listen to this dance & shine with us whether or not you know all the steps. When you find your people  they’ll say Do You Remember & you’ll say Yes until you remember together the different ways the whole thing happened. When you find your people they’ll say wear whatever you want, wear the tightest dress, wear your hot pants, your fishnets, your damn birthday suit. They’ll say we love your black skin & drag & fat & natural hair & we love you from your roots so please just live & don’t let anybody kill you or tell you they’ve killed you & you’re just fine the dead way you are. When you find your people don’t leave them & don’t let them off the hook when they are in the wrong.  When they are trying to take themselves out of the world  lay your hands on them & call them yours & yours & yours. When you find your people be sure you’ve been preparing your difficult heart by loving yourself, & what you pretend you don’t know you actually do, so that when you see your kin smiling into your eyes, the soft or tough flags of their hands covering yours in a truth so light & fierce, you see you all have been midair for some time, & could go higher, & burn some shit up, if you remembered what else is good, everywhere & everywhere you look.

— Rachel Eliza Griffiths, “Chosen Family,” in Seeing the Body

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Lena Rivo, Cat in the Snow, 2022, Gouache on board

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— Anne Carson, from “Red Doc>.”

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“Years ago, I had a colleague, Karen, and sometimes you’d say, “Well, how are you today, Karen?” And she’d say, “Oh, I’ve a bit of the Weltschmerz on me.” She was a great one for many languages. And I’d love the way that she’d do that. And I think there’s something about having a word for it, “Weltschmerz,” that allows you to realize that not all sadness comes from you, but sometimes you are just wearing the world’s sadness for a while and trying to figure out what to do with that.”

— Pádraig Ó Tuama, from the Poetry Unbound Podcast, ‘Carolina Ebeid | Reading Celan in a Subway Station’, published October 17, 2022 (via kitchen-light)

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