Just Once

I hope you are not disappointed that after all this time my first blog post is a poem I did not write. But when I happened upon it randomly just now my heart swelled and I wanted so much to share it and I wanted so much to be a poet half as brilliant as Anne Sexton and write a piece half as wonderful and brief and true.

Just Once

Anne Sexton

Just once I knew what life was for.

In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;

walked there along the Charles River,

watched the lights copying themselves,

all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening

their mouths as wide as opera singers;

counted the stars, my little campaigners,

my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my love

on the night green side of it and cried

my heart to the eastbound cars and cried

my heart to the westbound cars and took

my truth across a small humped bridge

and hurried my truth, the charm of it, home

and hoarded these constants into morning

only to find them gone.