Eleventh Love Poem and Eleventh Song of Despair

by Beate Sigriddaughter

Eleventh Love Poem: Beyond Reason

I want to love you
beyond reason.

I read this dreamy story
of a woman waiting
for her husband with body and
soul spilling open, bathed
and scented with anticipation.
How treasured she must have felt
to let her love blossom like that.
I wish I could be her.

What am I saying? I used to read
more than a thousand and one tales,
many stirring with that
kind of love.

I told you one time I didn't learn
love from my parents, no.
I learned love from fairy tales.

But those are fairy tales,
you cautioned. No more
intangible than God or money,
though, I said, and we reasonably
live in cynical obedience to those.

I want to take you
beyond reason. If you follow
me into the fairy tale, I will
one day go to the forest with you
and we will sleep together
under the stars where we
belong. I promise. 

Eleventh Song of Despair: Into the Mist

Reality is overrated. A mistake
is easiest with strangers, or even
better unobserved in solitude.

So I want to walk away.
There has been no welcome
for the only gifts I had
and what I wanted for
myself was often manfully
withheld, love, peace,
my circus dancer acrobatics
in a breathless world.

I have forgotten what I want
in life. I have lost desire.
I do not remember.
Let the sadness embrace me
of letting go of things I have
and also things I never had.

The mist is merciful.
The mist is undemanding.
So let me just walk off into
the curtains of forgiveness.

Not so fast, spirit says.
Don't you remember the corners
that have always turned
for you, unfastening
amazement? Yes, there always
has been new enchantment
when the dull mud broke open.

I will hang on a little while.
But it is good to know the mist
is there, white, rolling, daring,
extending secrecy, magnificence
and the temptation to be
remembered as one who walked
into the mist and didn't return.

The mist is forgiving.