We have all hurt someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. we have all loved someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. It is an intrinsic human trait, and a deep responsibility, I think, to be an organ and a blade. But, learning to forgive ourselves and others because we have not chosen wisely is what makes us most human. We make horrible mistakes. It’s how we learn. We breathe love. It’s how we learn. And it is inevitable.
I go through phases. Somedays I feel like the person I’m supposed to be, and then somedays, I turn into no one at all. There is both me and my silhouette. I hope that on the days you find me and all I am are darkened lines, you still are willing to be near me.
At your door
I want you to fumble for your keys,
postponing our good-bye,
or—better—not find them at all
so the two of us would have
to spend the night in the field at the end of your street
like ancient travelers
plotting our next day’s journey
by the stars.
Mark Brazaitis, from “I Know I Could Love You,” in The Other Language (ABZ Poetry Press, 2009)