Love Letters by Victoria Chang
31 Days of Poetry: Day 27.
The end of the month is approaching so fast! Onto the final five poems…
The 27th of August’s poem is ‘Love Letters’ by Victoria Chang, which was published in her 2022 collection, ‘The Trees Witness Everything’ (Copper Canyon Press).
Love Letters
Is that you, crawling?
Or have you just finished
gathering our sadness?
•
Let me tell you a story
about hope: it always starts
and ends with bandages.
•
Last year had one
thousand days. Imagine all
our extra living!
•
We are made of sorrow.
It threads through us and
holds our organs together.
•
Hope has footprints too.
Some days we follow it.
Some days it follows us.
•
Don't worry. The sky isn't
really a hand. It isn't waiting to
punch you down.
•
Sadness takes time. Sadness
is made up of minutes. Hope
is made up of years.
•
All the days can feel
terrifying. Until you realize
you've done this before.
•
Do you remember where you
were last May? I do. You were
here. You were alive.
•
I learned last year that
the moon too can help
things grow.
•
Plant your sorrow in
the soil. Next year it will
grow into a set of oars.
•
If you don't forgive yourself,
tomorrow will still arrive. So you
might as well forgive yourself.
•
There's a reason why our skin
keeps out water. We each
already own enough tears.
•
If you stand near grief too
long, the pine trees might
begin to notice you.
•
Summer is coming. Do you
remember when last year we
only had one season?
•
Your heart had hundreds of
extra beats last summer. You can
use some of them this year.
•
Maybe the large hand
descending was just
a crow's wing.
•
Last year the moon was
one inch from our faces and we
thought it would never leave.
•
Some days, the animals stare
at us too long. On those days,
we don't need anything.
•
Sometimes you are the wound,
sometimes the bandage.
Last year, we were all the wound.
•
Remember the first time you
saw a spiderweb and followed
the threads to the center?
•
Don't forget what happened
last year—when you missed people
so much you let them in.
•
When grief is very
busy, it doesn't even
bother to leave.
•
It is possible to mourn grief.
One year there were so many
tears, the sea level rose.
•
Be suspicious of a happiness
that is too easy, that
is windless.
•
Sometimes even the
flowers cannot cover
the scent of grief.
•
Why spend your
life building a room
to hide in?
•
Sometimes the stranger
next to you knows you better
than you know yourself.
•
There is always someone who
loves you, just as there are
always machines everywhere.
•
Everything always dries
eventually. But this
city never dries.
There is a bird and a stone
in your body. Your job is not
to kill the bird with the stone.
•
Some of us are made only
of nerve endings. At night,
we light up like radium.
•
One day you will wake
up beating. One day you will
wake up winged.
•
Let me tell you a story
about hope: it always starts
and ends with birds.I’m feeling pretty exhausted this evening and can’t quite formulate any thoughts to accompany this beautiful poem but I’m sure you’ll agree that it carries itself just fine.
See you on day twenty-eight,
Tasnim
The last couple of stanzas make me think of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending’ — which can only ever be listened to with one’s full attention.