Looking at you as if they know that the other part of your heart is walking, living and breathing above you.
They said his cries could be heard at the bottom of the sea when he knew of your death by Hector’s hand
and you placed your hands on your heart, so that it would not hear it.
You wonder what grief can do to the dead.
You wanted to end a war, or maybe to be reflected in his light,
To know, just for a second, what was so great about glory,
If it was worth leaving love behind.
You never knew of glory, but you know the price of it;
A spear in your chest and a love that is endless, even in the darkness of the underworld,
Because you love him.
You love him and you wish him every luck the Gods can grant him, you wish he went back home to have a long life and all the love in the world, you wish the war has ended and no blood stained the battlefield after yours.
But in the end, you would endure a thousand spears more to have him with you, in this dark and quiet world,
he would be light enough.
You wish him glory and to be remembered, for his name to be sang until it becomes a litany on the lips of every man.
But when you look at the doors of the underworld, at those strong and eternal pillars, you sing
“Please, come to me.”
You wonder if being a hero is just a pedestal on the golden throne of grief.
You see the battlefields again and he is everywhere, wounded, dying, and you are not beside him.
His name haunts your heart, it’s a scream in all the places of your body he used to touch with such devotion and softness
Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus
You see him falling, wounded, and you know in every shattered part of your soul that it is your fault, the fault of your blinding rage, of your godlike pride.
You let him go to his death in the name of your glory, you traded a lovely reality for a vain dream.
Patroclus, the one you loved above all, now ashes in the wind, the weight of his absence is tearing your chest open because
You love him, you loved him, you will always love him because his love was sweet as figs, the best part of you, the only thing you cherished,
The one thing you left behind.
You want to go back, to change the past, to bury your stubbornness and pride, to never be so blinded by such trivial things, to hold him close and never let him go.
But you can’t.
Godlike Achilles, you can’t change the past, and when the fatal blow comes your way, you do not move-
the body in love is its own language, spoken the same now as in ancient days when our past lives would share summer-sweet figs and kiss with honeyed mouths in the olive groves. this dream of sunday mornings and our flesh revered (revived) by the light. this dream of hands pressed to hips and the imagined future cadences of look at our kitchen with its stacks of white dishes, look at our dress shoes piled by the front door, see our raincoats hanging on the pegs, see our unmade bed and tell me, darling, that we were always destined for a harmony such as this one. because we are, you know. my heart’s been echoing your heart since sun- flowers have been blooming gold petaled, and your heart’s been echoing my heart since muscle memory has carried songbirds home. my mother tongue is the laughter you make in me and the poetry you make of me, because you do, you know. rib of my rib, lung of my lung, the love between us reveals (regenerates) us. this is the story of it: two bodies in orbit, stardusted gravity between them burning. this is the story, as old as atoms: man meets man. my queer blood for your queer blood sings.
Frozen bananas, fresh figs, homemade coconut whip & almond butter make up the base of this nicecream. I love adding frozen blueberries and always top any fruity breakfast with ka’kau nibs because, well, chocolate.
Ka’kau is associated with universal love and has active ingredients that release “feel good” emotions making it a natural heart-opener which in turn increases the ability to connect with your inner self and your heart chakra. Making the most of ourselves is the highest form of service we give to all of humanity. Take care of you, take care of the world. Peace.
She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.