POEM: “Rue” – In grand loves lost – or forgotten those of the past – or rotted I have come to understand…

Ladowska

Rue

In grand loves lost
– or forgotten
those of the past
– or rotted
I have come to understand
that perverted “love”
dominates
and good love
permeates.
Like addictions to
make-ups
or expensive jeans
a love for these things
takes over senses
– and your bank account.
You look beautiful.
But you are stupid.
Senseless in the sense
that you are magnificent.
And how gracious
the one who offers:
that is not love but obsession
it is not love but a reflection.

Rotten love just stinks
and it’s just the stench that remains.
It’s a dark winter
imprints itself
upon your skin
like the lifeless sky
sunless energy
paling you in comparison
to a could-be incarnation.
Whereas in bright
Oh, dear, you will shine.
And if fear, tension,
tightness and guard
was always heightened
no wonder you got stuck
in costochondritis
your heart strangled!
They were so like your Dad.
And so like your Mom.
Except for the true loves
that had zero in common
with them at all.
In grand loves lost
– or forgotten
those of the past
– or rotted
I have come to understand
that perverted “love”
dominates
and good love
permeates.
My, how I’ve been overtaken
by sadness reeling
for my parents’ love.
How I’ve been freed
by saying fuck off.
And with distance
and silence
and estrangement
(I hope) until death
what peace I feel
to breathe
my Grandma’s unwavering
love in lightness
a true love’s care
and a friend’s supportiveness.
What grace by which I now live life!
I think of a million nights
that I disguised my feeling sorry for you
in some kind of fondness
and delight, and rue.

Sylvie Hill, Montreal, May 14, 2020