A Break from the Norm

In honor of the fifth anniversary of the day I wed my beloved husband, Kyle, I am breaking from my normal course and posting two poems rather than a piece about writing. The actually date of our anniversary was yesterday, and so I gave each of the following poems to Kyle, in a frame, for our celebrations. The first is written by my favorite poet--okay, that is a tall order, but I'm going to go with one of my favorite poets, Nâzım Hikmet. A Turkish revolutionary, Hikmet's poetry is romantic and political. The following poem was adapted from a letter sent to him by his wife while he was in prison for his outspoken disdain for the Republic of Turkey. Enjoy.

I

want to die before you.

Do you think the one who follows

finds the one who went first?

I don’t think so.

It would be best to have me burned

and put in a jar

over your fireplace.

Make the jar,

clear glass,

so you can watch me inside…

You see my sacrifice:

I give up being earth,

I give up being a flower,

just to stay near you.

And I become dust

to live with you.

Then, when you die,

you can come into my jar

and we’ll live there together,

your ashes with mine,

until some dizzy bride

or wayward grandson

tosses us out…

But

by then

we’ll be

so mixed

together

that even at the dump our atoms

will fall side by side.

We’ll dive into the earth together.

And if one day a wild flower

finds water and springs up from that piece of earth,

its stem will have

two blooms for sure:

One will be you,

the other me.

I’m not about to die yet.

I want to bear another child.

I’m brimming with life.

My blood is hot.

I’m going to live a long, long, time ---

and with you.

Death doesn’t scare me,

I just don’t find our funeral arrangements

too attractive.

But everything could change

before I die.

Any chance you’ll get out of prison soon?

Something inside me says:

Maybe.

Isn't that fantastic? I am no poet in comparison to Nâzım Hikmet, or anyone really, but I tried. The following poem is for Kyle. I love him so very dearly. Here is to the five years of marriage we have shared and to the many more we will have.

 

High-school kisses came easy

In the morning on the bus

Next to his red locker

Ignoring the reprimands of teachers,

Who surely thought our embraces sweet.

And when we’d skip class

We’d spend the day intertwined in secret

Beneath his bed sheets on that futon mattress.

Then conversation spilled with fervor from our mouths,

Knowing we’d never run out of things to say.

And now, years later,

We have silent conversations

Like plants who know,

Through chemicals carried on the wind,

What their neighbors are thinking.

This morning when he kissed me,

I smelled a familiar fragrance

Between pricks of stubble on his cheek.

Beneath his soap

That smells of cloves,

Was a scent

Like morning,

Like easy love,

Like yearning,

That reminded me of high-school kisses.

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