(1904 - 3 May 1988 / Varanasi, United Provinces / British India)

Clouds Gathering

It seemed the kind of life we wanted.
Wild strawberries and cream in the morning.
Sunlight in every room.
The two of us walking by the sea naked.

Some evenings, however, we found ourselves
Unsure of what comes next.
Like tragic actors in a theater on fire,
With birds circling over our heads,
The dark pines strangely still,
Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset.

We were back on our terrace sipping wine.
Why always this hint of an unhappy ending?
Clouds of almost human appearance
Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely
With the air so mild and the sea untroubled.

The night suddenly upon us, a starless night.
You lighting a candle, carrying it naked
Into our bedroom and blowing it out quickly.
The dark pines and grasses strangely still.

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Comments (4)

The sharing of intimate thoughts with your twin sister through poetry is beautiful. This style of writing reminds me of having a conversation with you, but with more figurative language engaged. Some of the concepts shared in this write are so vivid. To me, the heart of your theme is contained within these lines: Names are the handles we grasp to lift experiences into consciousness. Everything must be lifted at some point in its existence; everything must move, or be moved. I love how you describe letting go of the frustrating experiences that fall in the gaps or crevices between words....and if they have no name they are consequential and should be let go...that is AMAZING! You could start a whole movement with just those words. What a wonderful to focus in on what is important in a relationship in a person...only the things upon which one gives a name. The path of memory to write a poem to a sibling, to me, is the only one. I've written poems about family members, both my brother and sister...and I think this is unavoidable because they are the ones who make us exist and give our names meaning...as witnesses. Your poem is lovely and full of imagery and your voice and I'm sure you're sister will love it, a communion of memories brought into meaning through words and naming.
Your thoughtful poem made me go to Dictonary - and I had to find out a lot there: communion[kəʹmju: nıən] n 1. общность communion of interests - общность интересов 2. поэт. общение, связь close communion with nature - тесное общение с природой communion with one's fellows - общение с товарищами 3. вероисповедание; принадлежность к какой-л. церкви the Anglican Communion - англиканская церковь to be of the same communion - быть одного и того же вероисповедания 4. (Communion) церк. 1) причастие, приобщение святых тайн Communion cup - потир, чаша (для причастия) 2) евхаристия, божественная литургия (тж. Communion service) Communion cloth - напрестольная пелена Communion table - престол ♢ to hold communion with oneself - глубоко задуматься о чём-л.; заниматься медитацией
Names are the handles we grasp to lift experiences into consciousness. Everything must be lifted at some point in its existence; everything must move, or be moved. - - - - - - - -A lovely poem for your twin sister.I agree as you said in one of your comment- -Poems make an impact even before they are understood.
Once I thought it would be easy to write a poem for you. So I tried and failed. That was a setback, and what's more, I knew it. So I tried again wonderful poem 10