What Reconciles Me

"What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together.  They are strewn there pell-mell.  One of your ribs leans against my skull.  A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis.  (Against my broken ribs, your breast like a flower.)  The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel.  It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace.  Yet it does.  With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough."

                                                                                       - John Berger

I want nothing more than to love this much - and to write this well.  And one day... I think I just might.

Comments

[kimagine]

Wow. That is so completely I-think-I-have-to-go-cry-now beautiful.

My favorite bit of poetry concerning love and death used to be one of W.H. Auden's, but *this* is just amazing. Must look up John Berger now.

[Viktor]

And here's a bit of Herrick to put you down.

---

THUS I
Pass by,
And die
As one
Unknown
And gone:
I'm made
A shade,
And laid
I' th' grave:
There have
My cave,
Where tell
I dwell
Farewell.

[EBWY!]

Aah, 17th Century emo... thanks!