True love. Is it normal,
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?
- From True Love by Wislawa Szymborska
At work we joke. How I juggle all these relationships. Does it truly take four to complete me? So fragmented that I am pieced together by sixteen hands outstretched. Finger tip to finger tip they sturdy me. If those hands gave way to nature’s gravitational pull I would not be shattered. I would walk wobbly, missing pieces, but together. Taped together with small strips. Worn hands pulling thick thread through pierced skin.
You see not one person always fulfills your every need. For I have you to provide me intellectual stimulation, fascinating conversation and adventure. Then there’s you who fills my throat with laughter, whom I have endless shared interests with and trust entirely. And you. Who let me whisper all my darkest thoughts, who knows my heart and soul and still loves what you’ve seen. And lastly there was you whose hands gave way and left a gap of what had been. Who gave me passion to rival the movies, whose mere breath on my skin shivered me to my core.
It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.
-From Could Have by Wislawa Szymborska
I don’t believe I chose wrong. Nor would I necessarily have found one who could encompass all four.
Should I have kept time at the doorstep of love?
Perhaps if my knees had been locked and my feet cemented, as opposed to these feet of mine that are so quick to leap. If I stood instead as my skin shriveled and my spine gave way. As the blonde brown of my hair transformed to the silvery string. If I had stood there longer, maybe I would have found what they write about. But perhaps instead I would still be waiting as the beats of my heart slowed and the watch failed and time no longer passed.
Months ago I began a post inspired by the relationship of a friend. It was filled with so much promise, little did I know then that now as I finally complete the thought their relationship has long expired. You see I don’t believe in one true love. Or love at first sight. But I do believe in destiny even if it leads to pain. I believe there are people who are meant to be in your life. I believe in the impossible. For isn’t that the same as believing in love?
They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But whats the word from the streets, staircases, hallways–
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?
I want to ask them
if they don’t remember–
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.
They’d be amazed to heard
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket.
There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.
-Love at First Sight by Wislawa Szymborska
*Wislawa Szymborska is a Nobel Prize winning poet from Poland.
