when I was considerably younger..

(mournful sigh)..
I 'discovered' poetry.  Before you start, yes, I know, poetry existed before 1999, but, for me, it hadn't!  And suddenly it consumed me.  Any poem that I liked was painstakingly copied into my notebook, read and re-read until I had it memorised.  I wish I could be like that again.  I would love to.  It seems I left that part of myself behind without really knowing why.


Now, as a disclaimer, I was no connoisseur.  And they were all about love - falling into, and out of (what a surprise at 18...).


so, to bring me back to my 18 year old self, here's an Alice B Walker classic.


Did This Happen to Your Mother?
Did Your Sister Throw Up a Lot? 
Alice Walker

I love a man who is not worth
my love.
Did this happen to your mother?
Did your grandmother wake up
for no good reason
in the middle of the night?

I thought love could be controlled.
It cannot.
Only behavior can be controlled.
By biting your tongue purple
rather than speak.
Mauling your lips.
Obliterating his number
too thoroughly
to be able to phone.

Love has made me sick.

Did your sister throw up a lot?
Did your cousin complain
of a painful knot
in her back?
Did your aunt always
seem to have something else
troubling her mind?

I thought love would adapt itself
to my needs
But needs grow too fast;
they come up like weeds.
Through cracks in the conversation.
Through silences in the dark.
Through everything you thought was concrete.

Such needful love has to be chopped out
or forced to wilt back,
poisoned by disapproval
from it's own soil.

This is bad news, for the conservationist.

My hand shakes before this killing.
My stomach sits jumpy in my chest.
My chest is the Grand Canyon
sprawled empty
over the world.

Whoever he is, he is not worth all this.

And I will never
unclench my teeth long enough
to tell him so.