by Derek Walcott (1930-2017 ) / Nat Lipstadt (1950- )
The time will come
Cruel messenger, bastardized time, come back! unwelcome visitor
when, with elation
bringing only dreaded D-words, despair, disgust...deflation
you will greet yourself arriving
departing or returning, matters not...there is no greeting
at your own door, in your own mirror
visible in either cracked devices, where lies and truths indifferent
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
welcome smile, wry smile, each an artifice alien smile,
and say, sit here. Eat.
speechless, floored, consuming flesh. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Love the étranger, estranged parts, how
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
Give whine. Give mold. The transplant rejected
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you,
by the stranger, now an it, who cannot recall himself,
all your life, whom you ignored,
all your life, ignored your choices's ever-mounting losses,
for another, who knows you by heart.
the split, the other knows not how to grant forgiveness.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
Take down the historical despair poems, for fresh decomposition,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
notes that never age, born desperate yellowed,
peel your own image from the mirror.
peel the skin, undress the delusionary, expose the interior accurate.
Sit. Feast on your life.
**Sit. Life has feasted on you
Love After Love
by Derek Walcott (1930- )
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
