And Nothing Is Ever As You Want It To Be
You lose your love for her and then
It is her who is lost,
And then it is both who are lost,
And nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.
In a very ordinary world
A most extraordinary pain mingles with the small routines,
The loss seems huge and yet
Nothing can be pinned down or fully explained.
You are afraid.
If you found the perfect love
It would scald your hands,
Rip the skin from your nerves,
Cause havoc with a computered heart.
You lose your love for her and then it is her who is lost.
You tried not to hurt and yet
Everything you touched became a wound.
You tried to mend what cannot be mended,
You tried, neither foolish nor clumsy,
To rescue what cannot be rescued.
You failed,
And now she is elsewhere
And her night and your night
Are both utterly drained.
How easy it would be
If love could be brought home like a lost kitten
Or gathered in like strawberries,
How lovely it would be;
But nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.
Brian Patten
You lose your love for her and then
It is her who is lost,
And then it is both who are lost,
And nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.
In a very ordinary world
A most extraordinary pain mingles with the small routines,
The loss seems huge and yet
Nothing can be pinned down or fully explained.
You are afraid.
If you found the perfect love
It would scald your hands,
Rip the skin from your nerves,
Cause havoc with a computered heart.
You lose your love for her and then it is her who is lost.
You tried not to hurt and yet
Everything you touched became a wound.
You tried to mend what cannot be mended,
You tried, neither foolish nor clumsy,
To rescue what cannot be rescued.
You failed,
And now she is elsewhere
And her night and your night
Are both utterly drained.
How easy it would be
If love could be brought home like a lost kitten
Or gathered in like strawberries,
How lovely it would be;
But nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.
Brian Patten
3 comments:
Oh Asha, your blog is so beautiful...it makes me want to be you sometimes...
But then this desire is suddenly muffled by fear, fear of what and how much and by how many, you must have gained wounds, to become as brimful of understanding and empathy and calmth.... a 'human' - that you so gracefully embody.
May your heart be at rest, dear Asha.
Thank you, Madeeha, glad this blog communicates to you. And yes, you are right - you certainly don't want to be me - :) - I don't want to be me either, but I don't have a choice :)
Thanks for bringing the memory of this poem, back. Its amazing how each time you read a poem that you've read before and loved, still feels different - differently populated, differently unearthed, differently pictured.
Oh and if I can, I'd recommend a visit to Madeeha's blog. A dear friend and a wonderful poet!
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