A Kite is a Victim

A kite is a victim you are sure of.
You love it because it pulls
gentle enough to call you master,
strong enough to call you fool;
because it lives
like a desperate trained falcon
in the high sweet air,
and you can always haul it down
to tame it in your drawer.

A kite is a fish you have already caught
in a pool where no fish come,
so you play him carefully and long,
and hope he won't give up,
or the wind die down.

A kite is the last poem you've written
so you give it to the wind,
but you don't let it go
until someone finds you
something else to do.

A kite is a contract of glory
that must be made with the sun,
so you make friends with the field
the river and the wind,
then you pray the whole cold night before,
under the travelling cordless moon,
to make you worthy and lyric and pure.


― Leonard Cohen, The Spice Box of Earth

To love is to be vulnerable

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

~ C.S. Lewis

For more love, and 21 Lessons They Didn't Teach You in School, check one hell of an entertaining online creative hub, "celebrating the Art of Being Alive," Rebelle Society.

Love for John Donne's "Broken Heart"

Poet and satirist John Donne, a contemporary of William Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth I, is a long-time personal favorite. I feel his work has an intensity that remains unmatched to this day. This piece sings to me. 

The Broken Heart 

 He is stark mad, who ever says,

That he hath been in love an hour,

Yet not that love so soon decays,

But that it can ten in less space devour;

Who will believe me, if I swear

That I have had the plague a year?

Who would not laugh at me, if I should say,

I saw a flask of powder burn a day?

St. Luke, Portia. "Melancholia."
Ink on paper with digital color.

Ah, what a trifle is a heart,

If once into love's hands it come!

All other griefs allow a part

To other griefs, and ask themselves but some;

They come to us, but us Love draws,

He swallows us, and never chaws:

By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks to die,

He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.

If 'twere not so, what did become

Of my heart, when I first saw thee?

I brought a heart into the room,

But from the room, I carried none with me:

If it had gone to thee, I know Mine would have taught thine heart to show

More pity unto me: but Love, alas,

At one first blow did shiver it as glass

Yet nothing can to nothing fall,

Nor any place be empty quite,

Therefore I think my breast hath all

Those pieces still, though they be not unite;

And now as broken glasses show

A hundred lesser faces, so

My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore

But after one such love, can love no more.

~ John Donne (1572 – 1631)

For the women who are difficult to love

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

by Warsan Shire
(for more of her work, please click here!)