Thursday, May 17, 2012

We Thought We Would Marry

A reverie for this day, an almost true history, a true story all the parallel worlds that I inhabit, somewhere this is directly true. I had to dredge a bit and then sharpen my recall so this comes from far away. In my current life it is merely an echo. I too have thought we would marry.

We Thought We Would Marry

Stumps of toppled trees
hewn years ago - cut by men
of pioneer stripe -
align my edges,
are lit by the last dim sun
of this evening.
I hear you pass by,
the usual clamor of joy,
your mate in the work,
in the warp, the weft,
the fabric you weave for us,
for all those you love.

‎May ‎17, ‎2012 4:03 PM

Saint Bartholomew by Jusepe de Ribera

"Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that we cannot bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond the pain." - Saint Bartholomew

St. Bartholomew, 1st. century, one of the 12. All that is known of him with certainty is that he is mentioned in the synoptic gospels and Acts as one of the twelve apostles. His name, a patronymic, means "son of Tolomai" and scholars believe he is the same as Nathanael mentioned in John, who says he is from Cana and that Jesus called him an "Israelite...incapable of deceit." The Roman Martyrology says he preached in India and Greater Armenia, where he was flayed and beheaded by King Astyages. Tradition has the place as Abanopolis on the west coast of the Caspian Sea and that he also preached in Mesopotamia, Persia, and Egypt. The Gospel of Bartholomew is apochryphal and was condemned in the decree of Pseudo-Gelasius. Feast Day August 24.

Bartholomew (Greek: Βαρθολομαίος, transliterated "Bartholomaios") comes from the Aramaic bar-Tôlmay (תולמי‎‎‎‎‎-בר‎‎), meaning son of Tolmay (Ptolemy) or son of the furrows (perhaps a ploughman).


  1. I LOVE the Saint Bartholomew quote. It brings me hope. Something is beyond the pain. Further than that, I EXIST beyond the pain. I WILL BE past. Somewhere it is directly true. I remember hearing something that has always stuck with me...a comedian saying, "It's true! I read it! I wrote it down and then I read it!" Made me doubt truth, and still to this day I have some measure of that doubt. What the hell is TRUTH?

  2. beautiful words and messages throughout. thanks for this touched my heart.

  3. Oh Annie, I understand you!

    It is a good thing to wake up a little bit but it does increase the pain...

    Harlequin, I am not afraid to touch your heart.

  4. I still do not get the connection with marriage, but that aside, I was enthralled with the story of St Bartholomew and really do understand the quote and have looked past the pain to the other side at times I needed to for survival.
    But I should have said first how I related to the poem and was taken by it into my own memories... a successful poem indeed!
    PS. 'proving I am not a robot' is tedious. In this one, it is impossible to distinguish between the options of 'eernves' or 'eemves' so I pick one and hope.
    I got it wrong, so here is try #2. If this doesn't work, I give u p.

  5. Stafford, thank you for your patience and for your responses.

    If you give up that will have to do. I will live.

    I guess you have never been spammed by a persistent robot that has forced you to remove a post before. When a robot returned to my post the third time I snapped. My posts are too diverse and too many. Robots find a way in. I will never give up word verification even though I have the same opinion when I encounter indecipherable passwords in my travels. Most of the time the words are easy enough in my experience but I too refuse to comment after awhile.

    What I will do is set up a dummy save file so I don't lose the comment and then kill the blog load. A fresh load often resets word verification to an easier reading cycle too.

    For me, it wasn't the marriage that was the tie but the pain of its loss still born and St. Bart's solution.

  6. i wonder if our animation does not flow from the very same source of pain. (i stop here for a long while to think about this - what our source looks like.)

    i read your poem again. it could wear many faces - for all of us, for any of us. it sits at the precipice of pain. all gain does. i know this now.



The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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