Lobe den Tag

I wrote a love letter about what has yet to happen there could be a kiss maybe under the full moon into the valley of thoughts my yearning for you feels like a runaway deer deep down in a silent winter forest I even love you when you yell at me! I am really good at love letters. In my head I write one to you every day. In my hand a tear gathers strength (sidenote, sorry: I am happy and grateful to be human and therefore able to cry. How else would I process all my feelings?) (additional note to myself, sorry, I will continue with my poem right after this, but this is important: should cry more, much more, definitely) What has yet to happen? a kiss a touch I wrote a love letter to you into my open palm tears washing over the syllables like waves on the beach I read it to the cat my voice shaking the cat purring  I wrote a love letter to you and never send it off because every w...

if there opens up a room for you beside another and for him beside you full of light and space in which you can truly and wholly be yourself light and shadow in which you fall in love with y ourself, even with yourself, imagine! this you, you see in the mirror, the other’s eyes become for you  so sudden the vision of yourself as you were meant to be - in which he falls in love with  himself, even himself, imagine! the self, he sees in the mirror of your eyes - so sudden the vision of himself as he was meant to be from all beginning - if you see yourself and him full of light and shadow you are free all of a sudden to give yourself to the universe © Susanne Becker

love is a place and through this place of love move (with brightened peace) all places   e.e. cummings love is a place I have not found yet I moved around for 18065 days did I ever look for it? when I wanted to be loved I thought I loved another truly – but what I saw was always me, longing for innocence, what I saw was this question, deeply connected: is it important is it possible to be loved by others for who you are? I could have asked: is it possible to love another for who he is? it is important instead I tried to find me and was not very good at it I wanted to be alone, to open the door – visit me not because love is a place © Susanne Becker

This morning, while reading my daily quote from Barbara Abercrombies  A Year of writing dangerously  I read there about the necessity for solitude in order to remain sane and keep writing. Without solitude, no art. Without solitude, no sanity. I couldn't agree more. Its a sometimes painful truth for me in this busy life we all have to lead that it can be so very diffucult to find enough solitude for my sanity. Among others she mentioned Naomi Shihab Nyes poem  The Art of Disappearing  as a written testimony dealing with how to have these times of solitude often "against" the demands of others, and ones life in general. I really liked this poem. It expressed a lot of what I was thinking, what I was longing for, what I was trying to express myself during the past maybe fifteen years, could be even more. The Art of Disappearing. I want to learn it. I want to be able to just disappear in the middle of everything. When everybody in my office is dealing with bureaucrati...