She had the perfect words to describe what love is. Lesbian love, in particular. Its been awhile since something moved me and kept me up during twilight. I was never an insomniac but I was absolutely mesmerized and nostalgic by Adrienne Rich's 21 Love poems.
Reading it while Devendra Barnhart's Korean Dogwood plays is enough to let my heart swim in bittersweet symphony. All these words cling to me like an armor of strength. There is hope.No one’s fated or doomed to love anyone. The accidents happen, we’re not heroines, they happen in our lives like car crashes, books that change us, neighborhoods we move into and come to love.Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story, women at least should know the difference between love and death. No poison cup, no penance. Merely a notion that the tape-recorder should have caught some ghost of us: that tape-recorder not merely played but should have listened to us, and could instruct those after us:this we were, this is how we tried to love, and these are the forces they had ranged against us, and theses are the forces we had ranged within us, within us and against us, against us and within us.
I have to make it. I have to make myself okay.
Because I still have to meet you.
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