A post on a problem in relationships inspires a poem.
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Recently, I wrote a post titled, “I’ll Make Love With You, But Don’t Hug Me,” in response to a reader’s request for how to deal with the absence of non-sexual physical affection in an otherwise intimate relationship. I noted that as someone who loves cuddling, hugging, holding, and snuggling, it was difficult for me to comprehend that others might dislike it, which led to the more general conclusion that “One of the hardest adjustments in any relationship is understanding and accepting that your partner may not enjoy something that you enjoy.”
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There are many ways we can achieve understanding. We can study a problem and search for facts to try to get a grasp on it; we can find or invent a rational, logical basis or explanation; we can try to dig down to the emotional roots (ours or someone else’s); or we can make peace with something and agree to accept a thing without fully understanding it. Often, we explore a mystery or confusing situation by writing about it, whether we make a list of pros and cons on a legal pad or sit down and pour a poem out from the soul. After seeing my article, a reader let me know that it resonated deeply for her and shared a poem she’d written that struck me as the perfect companion piece to the original post. Louise Thayer’s poem, “Heliacal Rising,” appears below. The title refers to the heliacal rising of a star, which. according to Wikipedia, “occurs when it first becomes visible above the eastern horizon for a brief moment just before sunrise, after a period of time when it had not been visible.”
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Heliacal Rising
by Louise Thayer
I can’t
change the way you brought sunshine
to my life.
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It was so radiant
that certainly at first,
I spread the light
thirstily around
my dark places,
let the warmth of your rays
combat cold cells
I didn’t know
I had left
until you found them
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frigid.
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To touch
was to feel and to feel too much,
so I found out later.
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I could show you no more
pain
and I eased back inside
where your light grew
dimmer for its contact
with my skin
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grew thin,
understandably so.
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Frequent were the times
I needed to say no
to your hands,
hurting you,
hurting me
but I couldn’t do it less
and stay sane.
♦◊♦
So I said ‘yes’
to the question
“are you ok?”
with my mouth
I spoke
and my words lost their power
to convince you.
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Then the shadows came faster,
slipped deeper in
until you were a shade
I didn’t recognize.
♦◊♦
I couldn’t see you anymore
just the new door you walked out of
every time you felt betrayed
by my body
and in a way I always knew
this battle would be played out
of time with the rest of my world
ascending
as you felt
lessened.
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I taught you to
stay away until you learned
what I never wanted you to know,
for to show all your scars is easy
if they’re outside.
♦◊♦
Mine flared within
your glow
and although the fusion may still
blow a hole
through our hearts
I know I can’t change
the way you brought sunshine
to life.
Photo courtesy of author.