Thursday, July 12, 2012

Unsent Letter #20

Writing isn't giving love
but being loved.
Reading's not receiving love
but loving.
If what I write escapes you,
if you've turned your head away
when I respond with my soul to your soul, say,
how's that different from a prayer?
Who cares if it's unanswered, what object it should reach
when it's speaking to God directly?
I can read the thoughts of the dead, who's to say
what is heard?

4 comments:

Jack said...

1. I've never thought about writing in this way.

2. Much of what I read escapes me.

the walking man said...

This piece is extremely dense with matter but ever so fragile with thought. I do like being loved and lovingin this way.

erin said...

every act can be an act of love and god if we allow it. we get in the goddamned way, is what happens.

i like this letter very much. i imagine it could be written differently every day.

xo
erin

Rusty Kjarvik said...

thanks for this my comrade, poet tree, you are a gift.

i'm currently working on an unsent letter, so i'll be looking for your others, if this is #20.

i imagined one day the "answering of prayers" as writing, and now, too late for my head to grasp any chronology of acceptable reason, i'm dimmed into insight, a humorous travail that has me wondering if the "one listening" to prayer, so oft-conceived with high poetry, is not in nature so loftily poetic of a sort that seeing human prayer, through the sense of reason, whether poetic or not, is as to read poetry for us, to interpret and swallow the lines of a terse or dense indrawn sensibility of language-born thought, and i've tipped the drawer, what comes out are the memories of my past, reconfigured and reanimated on the unswept floor...

as always, i'm appreciative to the utmost for your presence on my blog as the one to "enter the forest where it is the darkest" and continue to be the sole commenter on many of my posts

always reading your magnificence :)