"Conch"
"In fron of the mirror in my parent's bedroom lay a pink conch. I used to approach it on tiptoes, and with a sudden movement put it against my ears. I wanted to surprise it one day when it wasn't longing for the monotonous hum of the sea. Although I was small I knew that even if we love someone very much, at times it happens that we forget about it."
~Zbigniew Herbert~ translated from the Polish by John and Bogdana Carpenter
I am writing this down
in hopes that I never forget
the other night, the way
we rolled together across
the living room floor,
limbs connected to limbs,
lips and tongues intertwined
in an endless passion dance,
unable to tell where
you ended and I began.
I don't know if I had ever
felt that close to you before,
and I know you felt the same way.
My heart beat so rapidly like
a tribal call, primitive as
your lips met my ear and
you whispered, "I love you, baby."
I always know, but you are shy
about saying the words, and
I almost cried knowing how
sincere those words were, that
they came from your heart.
It was just for one
shimmering moment that
I could touch those words,
feel them vibrate,
see the colors weave
through the dark room.
I didn't want to answer,
just to close my eyes and
remember forever, keep your whisper
in a seashell to listen
over and over again,
but the words themselves
are fragile and like a bird,
must be allowed freedom.
"I love you"
always perishes in captivity.
So, I must do my best
to always remember,
never forget.
