Elegy // J. Blue Chattigre
To know love as having merely to look upon it
is as much a curse as blessing, for certain knowing
we will mourn its presence, its loss before the fact.
That we reminisce about the present and suffer gladly
the grief to come, inescapable as a foreshadowing,
is why those already grieving have so much power over us:
how they preside, how they utterly know our names.
Would it be much to offer a few words as comfort,
to give voice to our longings, and like the prayer
offered silently in the presence of suffering, betray
ourselves the fear and reverence we hold them in.
Would it be as much or not nearly enough to learn
grief through anticipation, pain in its absence, thirst
before the well, hunger amid plenty, just as we know
love when we are most alone, and loss when at last
we have but to look upon what we have yet to mourn.
is as much a curse as blessing, for certain knowing
we will mourn its presence, its loss before the fact.
That we reminisce about the present and suffer gladly
the grief to come, inescapable as a foreshadowing,
is why those already grieving have so much power over us:
how they preside, how they utterly know our names.
Would it be much to offer a few words as comfort,
to give voice to our longings, and like the prayer
offered silently in the presence of suffering, betray
ourselves the fear and reverence we hold them in.
Would it be as much or not nearly enough to learn
grief through anticipation, pain in its absence, thirst
before the well, hunger amid plenty, just as we know
love when we are most alone, and loss when at last
we have but to look upon what we have yet to mourn.