I Only Love You More Because the World Is Ending
for Brenda Shaughnessy
The news isn’t good, and neither of us feelslike pretending, though the list of what we hope forgrows longer by the day. More news, goodor otherwise, everything witnessed by the lightof fires, and something we cherished alwaysburned away. So let me say this first: Brenda,I love you. You make the world more beautiful—how could I not love you for that? There are peopleI’d die for, only they are not my children.What I really mean is there are people I live for,and if they died, I’d feel for a time out of timewith time. But I know as you do that endings areupon us while love goes on starting over and over.What this means lately is that each time I watcha fly that thought it wanted to be inside trywith the whole measure of itself to get back out—when the concussive sound gets to be too much,I open every window in the house. If not for me,if not for my life, then for those people I keepfinding my way deeper into life by loving. If notfor me, then for you and your children, Brenda.But you ask if all of this pain hinders our capacityto feel, and of course, we have to ask ourselvesbecause it’s wise to put words to what drives us,to say when the throat tugs the shirttailsof the mind and when it leadens its surface.If I’m going to lose—I can see that I am now—let me at last be what I was made to be and say,my only gift was that I was never afraid to love,and love, I’ve never been more afraid.
