I don’t know why it is so heavily implied that mourning is such a negative thing, that expressing emotion over change is in some way like a swift left to the jaw of what is new. Isn’t it better to acknowledge and analyze and articulate what it is you have no longer? How am I to know quite how good the goodness is without first understanding the darkness? Let me have my sadness so that I can truly appreciate my joy.
One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.