'Thank you, whatever comes.' And then she turned
And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers
Fades when the wind hath lifted them aside,
Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes
One hour was sunlit and the most high gods
May not make boast of any better thing
Than to have watched that hour as it passed.
And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers
Fades when the wind hath lifted them aside,
Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes
One hour was sunlit and the most high gods
May not make boast of any better thing
Than to have watched that hour as it passed.
- Ezra Pound
I read this poem when I was seventeen. It spoke to me from the beginning, but I didn't understand its full meaning until six years later when I lost everything. Losing the person I held dear and the future I had built taught me to remember the sunshine in the darkness. Most importantly, the day will be bright again and nothing can take that away.
Now, over ten years since these words graced me, I have everything I have ever prayed and wished for. I am independent, but close to my loved ones. I'm married to the man I thought didn't exist, and we love each other breathlessly. The sun comes out everyday, and I'm more at peace than I ever remember being.
I still recall the dark times, and I fear the reach it has on me. I know better than to trust everlasting happiness, because life loves to contrast itself. For every breathtaking, self-defining, and eye-smiling moment, there will invariably be the crushing helplessness of loss and heartbreak. At times, I can feel my heart distancing itself from this beautiful part of my young life, because perhaps it won't hurt as much when it's taken away. See? My right-away instinct wasn't to type "if" it is taken away but "when."
Please don't misunderstand me. I believe in my own happy ending, and trust in my spouse to be right with me throughout my existence and eons after. I trust in a happy life. Trust.
I think that's one of the very most profound things I've learned in the past eleven years since I read Erat Hora and drank in the words Ezra Pound was trying to relay. I used to believe that one could know and be comforted in permanence. That once you found the things and people you wanted to spend the rest of your life entwined with, that was just . . . it.
I think that's one of the very most profound things I've learned in the past eleven years since I read Erat Hora and drank in the words Ezra Pound was trying to relay. I used to believe that one could know and be comforted in permanence. That once you found the things and people you wanted to spend the rest of your life entwined with, that was just . . . it.
Of course, experience is a ruthless teacher. I now know that what I love can be gone and taken away in an instant and I am powerless to stop it. That people I pour my soul into may tear it apart and leave it shattered when they betray you and leave. That dream job or pursuit I put my time and sweat into is gone with a simple injury that I'm too young to have. The stage that used to be such a safe haven that's now a spotlight for everything I'm not.
However . . .
However.
There is no force in existence that can take away the memory of how amazing I felt while doing these things. While loving those people. I'll never forget that birthday under the stars downtown, or the way a child took my hand and told me she loved me. The way he looked at me that first night he knew he loved me. When I bowed hand in hand with the people who saw the actual me that's always pushed down deep. My heart does twinge to recall such bittersweet moments considering how they played out, but that just means it did happen and it did have meaning.
And I get to carry that with me forever.
Whatever happens, that time was beautiful and I'll always have that.
It gets me through the paralyzing fear of losing what I love and cherish now.
