Original credit to Yehuda Halevi, circa 1100 CE, Spain.
‘Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch.
What can be burned in the streets. What can be read in court. What can be uttered only as babies are removed screaming in protest. What can turn to further trauma. What can be easily ignored. Forgotten.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be,
And oh, to lose.
To lose children, parents, family, friends. Not a game. To lose. To be systemically dismantled well before being put in the earth.
A thing for fools, this.
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.
To remember, continue, draw breath, birth, write, speak, to publish.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
Treasured story, diatribe, monologue, hot tea, citation on citation, song, silence.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death, fire, social work, abuse, dismissal, disability, redaction, out of print has touched.