for the one in love

I am far, far beyond that island of days where once, it seems, I watched a flower grow, and counted the step of the sun, and fed, if my memory serves, the smiling animal at his appointed hour. I am shot with wounds which have eyes that see a world all sorrow, always to be, panoramic and unhealable, and mouths that hang unspeakable in the sky of blood.

How can i find bird-relief in the nest-building of day-to-day? Necessity supplies no velvet wing with which to escape. I am indeed and mortally pierced with the seeds of love.

from By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept

by Elizabeth Smart



.
.