While I was having that meltdown sitting in a park freaking out because I’d lost the capacity to think, feeling like I was losing everything that mattered to me, I dug out Selections from Leaves of Grass – a collection of Walt Witman’s poetry I’d just picked up in my adventure downtown. I needed something to focus on, to pull myself out of my panic. Even if I couldn’t think, I could flip through and let the words wash over me. Poetry’s meant for that anyway, something to feel, not to try to understand.
My eyes fell to this stanza from I Sing the Body Electric
I have preciev’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing, flesh is enough.
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly
round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as a sea.
In that moment, I was reminded of what I still had, and that yes, it was enough.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted (or even wrote) a poem, so I’m stealing Walt’s words, to start a sohbet. To hear your poetic responses to being surrounded by the beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing… (God, I Iove that line!)