Love After Love
By Poet Laureate, Derek Walcott
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.
The past week has been my first in my new home.
I have been moving things around, and arranging my favorite things into little vignettes, and happy corners.
I've been laying out my art supplies, and organizing my work spaces.
This is the first time in my life that I have lived alone, and I am learning how to do that. I am learning what it's like to not take another into consideration when I make a decision about food, what I want to watch, or if I feel like going out. It feels heady, luxurious, and I even feel a strange bit of guilt. Perhaps that’s a Mom thing. I don’t know.
One thing I do know : This introspection is long overdue. Mostly it feels good. But it also sometimes feels as if I’m trying to get into clothing that doesn’t quite fit me. It’s pulling at the shoulders, the pants need hemming, and I haven’t quite figured out my personal style.
I’m getting there though.
At least I’m protected from the elements.