Sitting alone in warm water
with the sun doing what the sun does
when given a clear, clear sky,
everything seems possible.
Imagine, the earth heats this water
before it enters the rounded stone pool
and this seems miracle enough
to make me think that whatever is sacred
in this life might be very, very simple.
Simple as it is, I don’t understand
how it works—just as I do not understand
the heart with its longing to love.
Doesn’t it remember the hurt?
Doesn’t it remember the walls crashing down,
the rubble, the wreckage, the stench?
Doesn’t it remember the long, slow
blossoming of ache? How it unfurled
like the chokecherry tree in the yard—
tiny buds, tiny buds, tiny buds,
larger buds, then bloom! A riot of bloom!
I recently read about frogs, how
if they jump into a pot of boiling water
they immediately will jump out
and survive. But if they are put
in a pot of cold water and the fire
is lit and the temperature increase
is slow, then they will stay in the pot
even though it is getting uncomfortable,
even though it is more and more hot,
they will stay until they are boiled.
And dead. Does the heart learn from this?
Apparently not.
Here I am sitting alone
in warm, warm water, the sun
burning red the skin on my chest,
and all I can think is how good it feels
to be naked, to be warm, to be alive,
and to let the heart love, to love despite.
Oh foolish woman. Oh pleasure
in being a fool, how it burns.
My favorite parts,
“Simple as it is, I don’t understand
how it works…”
And that chokecherry tree stanza, though relating the story about the frog is by far the most memorable. Though I’ve heard it before, you tell it like I haven’t heard it, and combined with the hot springs, it grows larger until it not only encompasses you but also the reader. The indolence and pleasure and danger all mixed into the same stew.
I do think you end better on the word “burn” — that tiny simple line not really needed. The reach back to simplicity is already in the start of that burn stanza.
thanks David, you are right about taking off that little last line. Oh the urge to explain things! Trust the reader, trust the reader.
“… a riot of bloom.” aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggghhhhhhhhh
As for the heart not learning, I’ve been told the most essential element for successful relationships is not forgiveness, but forgetting.
ps I tried to double-, triple-, or even quadruple-like this, but alas, the internet was unable to understand my intentions.
Nonetheless, this poem stands out, even amid your already standoutable poetics.
Ed, thanks for the double like …
i seem to be very good at forgetting. though when i am in hell, i often forget then, too, that things were ever okay …
Rosemerry – honestly, you are breaking through the stratosphere… I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this.
Sweet you, thank you … Let’s go there together soon!