What Reconciles Me

August 6, 2009

"What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together.  They are strewn there pell-mell.  One of your ribs leans against my skull.  A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis.  (Against my broken ribs, your breast like a flower.)  The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel.  It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace.  Yet it does.  With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough."

                                                                                       – John Berger

I want nothing more than to love this much – and to write this well.  And one day… I think I just might.


3 Responses to “What Reconciles Me”

  1. kimagine Says:

    Wow. That is so completely I-think-I-have-to-go-cry-now beautiful.
    My favorite bit of poetry concerning love and death used to be one of W.H. Auden’s, but *this* is just amazing. Must look up John Berger now.

  2. Viktor Says:

    And here’s a bit of Herrick to put you down.

    THUS I
    Pass by,
    And die
    As one
    And gone:
    I’m made
    A shade,
    And laid
    I’ th’ grave:
    There have
    My cave,
    Where tell
    I dwell

  3. EBWY! Says:

    Aah, 17th Century emo… thanks!

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