Apr 29, 2007

The Dead

The dead / wander where they please,
especially into the heart where there is no defense
goes a line from a poet I know. What does she mean
by defense? By the dead in relation to
the heart? There is heart and there is
body, is memory, is that it? Who we have
loved, we will still love, will keep coming back
like rain: more a question about when than if.
If I have told of my heart as a lighthouse,
are the dead the wrecked sailors who enter,
bewiggled, in storm, for shelter, with coats
that carry the sea? Not like a curse but like
a burden? If the dead are the sailors, can
the boat be with what they wander, the heart
the lighthouse? meaning life is random, but also
unrandom: both. My heart: a lighthouse:
a tower of light to which the dead enter
like rain.

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