CM ( / North Bay, Ontario)

For Two Strangers

Two strangers, to each other, but mostly to me,
Were my beginning,
He and you
You and he,
And then we were three,
Although he was none the wiser,
You carried me,
Half of what I am you gave, I took the rest from him,
The planes of your faces, the curves of your bodies,
Are a mystery,
Yet sometimes when I see myself,
I wonder what parts of you are looking back at me,
I still fail to conjure images of you two,
I am older than you were when we parted,
Have we met?
Have we passed each other unknowingly on the streets?
And what of him?
In his world I do not exist,
I feel too strange to feel sadness,
Three people who may never meet,
What have you given me?
My chin, my smile,
Would you be proud to see the reflections I have of you in me?
Am I alone or are there others who you have carried since you
Carried me?
My fears, of disappointing you, of hurting the two who are real to me,
Of hurting you, the ghost in my brain whose face I can never clearly see,
Still me,
Standing at the precipice,
I squint, hoping to catch a glance of you on the other side,
Yet I am afraid to look too hard, to take that leap,
Will I ever cross that bridge? Will I ever even come to it?
Yet I wonder as I stare at my own image,
If I never know you
Will I ever know all of me?

by Catharine Macauley

Comments (1)

How come, thro' question after question, a poem is born from your excellent pen. This new style, I find, is so simple and thrilling like a suspense drama. The words are jumping alive.