Someday I’ll Love Leila Chatti
after Frank O’Hara, et al.
Take heart—the lilacs are yours
as much as anyone’s; you need never
audition for spring. What delights
delights in you. What is luminous
beckons, and makes room. Look—
there is this goodness
in you that has no debt
and no end. There is this goodness, though
your goodness is not requisite
to stay your while this side of dirt.
Have you noticed? The stars
do not spell suffering;
there’s no prophecy in that disorder
of infinite dark, no script.
Misery is not your inheritance.
Your hurt in time will soften
like green beneath
the presence of deer.
If belief’s beyond, just be
until it’s here. You’ll see.
The sacred inside
is not extinguished.
Blood is the mother
of blessing and your veins
run hot with God.
Bless your abundance
of unwieldy feeling! Bless
the holiness of the hole
of your need! Bless, too, this absence
of apology. For your tenderness
is what tethers you
to the exquisite
terrors of living, and living’s
all there is. Keep on, keep on.
The smallest voice you have speaks
your most important things.
Are you there?
If you’re listening, I think it’s all right
to take a breath now. If you’re there,
I think it’s all right.
