True love is... like gold to airy thinness beat

A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING
by John Donne


As virtuous men pass mildly away,
   And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
   "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
   No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
   To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
   Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
   Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
   -Whose soul is sense- cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
   The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
   That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
   Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
   Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
   Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
   As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
   To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
   Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
   And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
   Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
   And makes me end where I begun.

I thought this would be an appropriate post because it's thanksgiving season and I wanted to express my thankfulness for everyone who keeps me grounded, for those people in my life that keep my circle just. I know one day I will end where I begun…  Perhaps that is not a physical place, but a state.

I know this is not an appropriate poem because it is the most beautifully romantic and loving poem, and well, that's not exactly the place I am at these days. But this poem has a story...

I fell in love with poetry twice. Once in a class I hated high school. My senior AP English class. I spent most of my time messing around with a friend who, like me was disappointed in this class. Occasionally I would enter into the discussions our teacher had planned out for us. My favorite part of this class was Perrine. Perrine's Sound and Sense  Every day we quickly discussed two poems from this little poetry reader. All of these years later, Perrine is with me on the other side of the world. My ratty little book opens directly to page 75. This page has more writing than any other page. This is poem 55: "A Valediction: Forbidding Morning"

I fell in love with poetry twice. Again in college. My degree is in English, so I've read and studied a few poems. I don't claim to be the most well read, or even well read at all. I knew how to play the college system effectively. I attended one of my favorite college classes the first semester of my junior year. It was my first year back "in town" at the local state school I swore I was above only a few years before. "Fairy tales, folk tales, and ancient children's literature" There was this little Asian girl in my class that looked awfully familiar to me. After a few classes, we realized that we had been in V.Smith's AP Senior English class together. She loved Vicki's class. Vicki helped me to realize I could be a teacher, if she could. I mean that in the nicest way. She didn't really teach that much, but she had the biggest heart. I don't want to take away from what she's done for kids in our area who don't have a lot of hope..She tries to help young people see their God-given potential. But that's not what I needed. I needed literature. I needed poetry. I did not need to know that I had a purpose. I knew that.

Anyway. That little Asian girl became my best friend. Two years out high school. I had dissolved all of my friendships at home and started a life six hours away. Then God pulled me out of that life and sent me back home. That class taught me the value of stories that go beyond culture, the deeper nature of all stories, and the epic nature of life for children and adults. That class matched me with the young woman who would support me in some of my most dire moments. We helped each other cope with crazy English professors. She helped me to love the Romantics. We always had a way of sharing some insight into life lit by a poet, novel, or song or Scripture by which we'd recently been enlightened.  Together we fell in love with the archetypal princess who must be rescued from eminent danger. She is my princess.

We've not always been there for each other. She's been on the other side of the world when I needed her. I had to face the fear of watching a Harry Potter movie alone because my Sister was in London. But when we get together we are one hundred percent there for each other. Unless she's off in lalaland somewhere, in which case I can kindly say, "Pay attention to me please" and she does.

No, we've not always been there for each other. I am in Bulgaria. I have needed her shoulder много пъти. Now, she is facing the hardest time of her life and I am here, in Bulgaria. Darling, please know that "Our two souls therefore, which are one,/ Though I must go, endure not yet/ a breach, but an expansion,/ Like gold to aery thinness beat." I love you and am so thankful for all the times you've been my "fixed foot." I am mourning with you and crying for your aching heart. Be reminded: Psalm 139.