“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”— Rumi
I have been forgetting, lately, how to forget.
Seems all I can do is remember. Song lyrics.
Poems. What we ate when we were where
and what you wore and what I wore and how
we’re no longer there. And all the walls I’ve built
around the memory—I have mortared the bricks
with sighs and tears. Until I no longer see through
the wall to what’s here. What is here. Sometimes
loneliness. Bees in the apricots ferocious with
spring. White blossoming, white blossoming, white blossoming.
Asian pear trees—mere sticks with bare roots.
A belief that in years to come there is fruit.
When the moment is not hung with sweetness,
it’s hard to forget what sweetness is. In that moment,
all we want is sweetness. In that moment, all
we want is the bliss that we knew. Three bees made
a home in my hair yesterday and I shook wildly
to get them to leave. Some days love is less like honey
and more like the sting of a bee. Some days it’s all I can do
to stop building the wall. To let today’s love
be today’s love. To let go of the remembering. To let
this weave of brine and blossom be sweetness enough.