Rescue The Dead
Finally, to forgo love is to kiss a leaf,
is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head,
is to respect fire,
is to study a man’s eyes and his gestures
as he talks,
is to set bread upon the table
and a knife discreetly by,
is to pass through crowds
like a crowd of oneself.
Not to love is to live.
To love is to be led away
into a forest where the secret grave
is dug, singing, praising darkeness
under the trees.
To live is to sign your name,
is to ignore the dead,
is to carry a wallet
and shake hands.
To love is to fish.
My boat wallows in the sea.
You are free,
rescue the dead.
David Ignatow (b. 1914)
Mine is not to interpret this for you but just to put it out there. Take from this what you will. Rescue the DeadPeace, Tenthltr2U