Gravitas
by Tiffany Vakilian
If
By missing you I learn
The tactile visage of love
One that is first
Then I am a student
If by holding you for a few
Too few
Sickening short moments
In my hand
I see life and appreciate
The finality
Of life’s end
Then I am here
A book
Writing and written
If by recreating
Creating
I seem in some small way
To have forgotten
The feel of you
Reaching out for me
I cannot budge from
Penitent prayers for forgiveness
Because I have not
I have gone forward
Feeling the perfection
Of one’s most intimate conversation
I have gone forward
Looking to see you again
Holding the hope
Of hearing your stilled
Small voice
Laughing
I have gone forward
Red, then blue, then multifaceted colors
Owning this
Spear of teardrop truth
You were my first love
You
And a love one never forgets. Sigh. You took me back to that time.
Like looking through the looking glass at the magic of a greener grass. Delightful.
Tiffany this is absolutely beautiful. I can feel, and that says a lot, of the emotion within the words. Love this.
Retreating back, or moving forward. Both choices are imensly orchestrated and part of our healing. You shared a powerful season of life Tiffany… Thank you for laying it out there….
Magnificently written.
From first stanza to last you express succinctly what first love is and those who read your lines and have experienced the thrill of first love can easily and deliciously relate.
Love how this poem is “spear of teardrop truth” about how we are all “students” of love, and can triumph by embracing memories and transforming them to art and writing (“Recreating and creating;” “multifaceted colors;” “I am a book…writing and written.” This poem has a lovely echo. The repetition is like waves and heartbeats, and is cyclical, like love itself.
Just saw these comments. Thank you for your constructive critiques and compliments! Sal, Miryam, Diane, Michael, Monica… you guys know how awesome it feels to impress your friends even on a small level. You’ve made my *Satur-DAY!
“Looking to see you again.” That small voice that penetrates takes on its own form… forever heard. Outstanding!
This gets better every time I read it! Bravo!!
I FINALLY get around to leaving a comment. As most of you know, Tiffany helps keep things running at the Towers, even from a distance. OH! Have I taken her for granted! And neglected to notice what a fine talent she has. This poem is magnificent. I just placed an order to have sent to you the only book of poetry that ever moved me, by William Benton: “This is my Beloved.” Your poetry is of equal caliber.
Thank you all. I take a great bit of honey, I mean pleasure in handing Thorn his daily dose of the ‘tas… not really. He’s got an I’VE drip at the Towers. Don’t tell. I’m looking forward to having the time to fully engage the comments as I used to. Please forgive my sparse check ins…