I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
-- Margaret Atwood
If I posted just this poem, it would be enough to convey the the art of the written word in (one of) its highest form(s). (Love Atwood's work, in case it isn't obvious).
Most people, on reading or analysing this poem leave with a sense of serenity, beauty and immersive imagery. Me? Not so much...I don't know if it was (Clint Mansell's) Lux Aeterna playing somewhere in the background or my slow descent into madness, but I was left with the impression of obsession. Not the stalker-sociopath-maniacal-murdering sort of obsession. My impression was more Heathcliffe-before-Catherine's-death kind of obsession.
Speaking of Heathcliffe...I've always wondered what kind of insane brilliance of mind it takes for someone to come up with such a character. How, Emily Bronte...how?!
On a completely unrelated note- Snowy & I, in the middle of our "great poems project", have discovered the meaning of talent and how little of it we possess (at this point, I think we aspire to finish something). The silver lining? At least we can lose ourselves in the immense talent of others (Atwood, Lewis Carroll, Roald Dahl, Poe, Bronte sisters, Tolkien, Coleridge, Rumi, Ghazzali, Dickinson...an endless list).
