Does Someone Love You Now?

[Sunstone]

Does Someone Love You Now?



Do you remember now those decades ago
On the porch of the Oak House?

The evening you wrapped us in a thin blanket
Elbow to elbow in solidarity
Against the October chill?

We listened to the coyotes calling to the late sun
And waited for the night
And waited for the comet
That hung above the San Luis Valley that year.

You were a girl then. Seventeen and sick with worry
The boys would never want you —
Want you enough to stick with you
Beyond the sex you gave them,
Want you enough the love you felt
Would ever be returned.

I was forty-three — and twenty-six were the years between us,
The years you reached across to ask me in earnest:

“What must I become,
What must I turn myself into
To earn a boy’s love?”

That afternoon on a bed of moss and stone
You had fallen asleep next to me
In the shallow water of the Upper Pool.

Small bubbles formed on your pubic hair like silver jewels,
Sun and shadows raced and swirled across your satin skin,
Something older than the gods spoke
In your graceful curves, spoke in an ancient tongue
Of your youth and your fertility

And I could not believe
Anyone so beautiful

And I could not believe
Anyone

Could feel so alone.

Do you remember now those decades ago, Jackie,
When you bravely reached across the years between us,

When you broke open your heart,
When in the growing dusk
You called off your guards,
And in the gloom
Surrendered your proud walls,
In order to reveal to me naked and honest
Your desires and your fears?

Do you remember now your lips were trembling,
Trembling as you spoke,
And not from the cold?

You were seventeen years old
But a hundred years tired that night,

Tired and worn,

Chased down,
Cornered and numb

From how the boys would lie and use you cruel,
From how they had taken the least,
Ignored the rest,
And left the best of you behind.

You spoke of a hollow chest,
You spoke of an emptiness,
You spoke of a twilight
Through which winds of loneliness twisted and wailed
By night and by day.

And you spoke of a growing hatred,
An exhausting hatred for yourself,
A quicksand sucking you down.

You were so sure no boy could love you
Ever

Unless you could become an alchemist

And with estranging fires and poisons
Turn the lead you thought you were
Into the gold you thought you must become.

Tonight I wonder what you have become
In the cauldron of the two decades
That have passed since I told you,
Urged you, that night on the porch
Not to hide yourself beneath a mask,
Not even a mask of gold.

I all but begged you to be true to yourself —

True so someone could love you for who you are.
True so that someone
Could love you Jackie
For who you are.

I ached that night for you to make my words
Your path and your road, your light and your guiding star.
I ached that night for my words to nourish you.
I ached for my words to encourage and to heal.

Did you grasp my advice?
Did you discover the meanings
That ran like a subterranean river
Beneath my words?

Did you see the truth
That I tried to point you to?

Were you able to turn the words
I spoke into something real?

Have you had the guts
To be yourself?

Tonight I wonder, Jackie,

Does someone love you now for who you are?

Or do you wear tonight a mask of gold

And the winds still twist and howl
Through the emptiness of your heart?

 

[Baladas]

This is beautiful.
I hope that she has lifted her mask.
At least for someone.

The tenderness and the love in this are palpable and written with an eloquence that I aspire to.

 

[Brickjectivity]

This is a test.

This is a test of the emergency poetry accountability system.

Had this been an actual emergency your English teacher could have been held liable.

In an an actual poetry accountability emergency, proctors will appear to direct citizens to designated poetry free zones. Please follow their instructions to the letter.

Remember this was only a test.

 

[dybmh]

I really like it. Walks the line between edgy and beauty, IMHO. Not typical and artistic.

 

[Sunstone]

This is beautiful.
I hope that she has lifted her mask.
At least for someone.

The tenderness and the love in this are palpable and written with an eloquence that I aspire to.

Thank you so much for your very kind words. They mean a lot to me.

 

[Sunstone]

I really like it. Walks the line between edgy and beauty, IMHO. Not typical and artistic.

Thank you so much!

 

[dybmh]

Thank you so much!

You are very welcome.

 

[Sunstone]

I hope that she has lifted her mask.
At least for someone.

I wish I knew the answer to your (implied) question. Almost the last time I saw Jackie was about a year after the events in the poem. For reasons of her own, she'd quit hanging out with our group. But one day, I was walking along when she seemed to come out of nowhere.

She told me she was on her way to work and didn't have much time, Baladas, but that she wanted to thank me for the advice I had given her that night on the porch of the Oak House. As she explained it, it had taken her "months" to deeply understand what I had been trying to tell her about being true to herself. But she assured me that she understood now and was practicing what I had preached.

Of course, it is generally very hard to stay true to yourself, even if you are resolved to do so. Which is why I now and then wonder if Jackie has, even though she assured me that day that she was determined to be true herself.

The tenderness and the love in this are palpable and written with an eloquence that I aspire to.

Thank you for your kind compliment. It seems to me eloquence to some extent comes from reflecting deeply about the things you go on to become eloquent about. It also seems to me that you have a tendency to do that sort of reflecting on things. Thus I assume you will become as eloquent as you want to be someday.