FOR WHAT BINDS US by Jane Hirshfield

There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.

Look around, you can see them:

the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,

nails rusting into the places they join,

joints dovetailed on their own weight.

The way things stay so solidly

wherever they’ve been set down —

and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back

across a wound, with a great vehemence,

more strong

than the simple, untested surface before.

There’s a name for it on horses,

when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh,

is proud of its wounds, wears them

as honors given out after battle,

small triumphs pinned to the chest —
And when two people have loved each other

see how it is like a

scar between their bodies,

stronger, darker, and proud;

how the black cord makes of them a single fabric

that nothing can tear or mend.


From one of my favorite reading places, brain pickings – https://www.brainpickings.org/2016/07/01/anne-truitt-turn-regret-mourning-love/

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