Secret Love Letters

The writing of 'secret letters',  posted publicly to unnamed recipients, was a game on MySpace in 2007. All your friends then had to guess who was who, and particularly try to spot themselves. Being me, of course I did it in poetry, and made them love letters. The dVerse prompt today is for letter poems. I've written lots! But these from 2007 have not been shared here before. Some of those to whom they were addressed I knew only on MySpace, others in 'real life' as well. 

Secret Love Letters

1.

To you, what can I say

that hasn't already been said?

All possible declarations have been made —

though sweet in the repetition.

This is the craziest love

or the sanest.

If there was lust, it would be

the ultimate in star-crossed.

Luckily for us,

we're otherwise inclined.

And so we love deliciously

mind to mind.

And yes, we love with passion –

of the soul, not the flesh.

Almost flirtatious, nearly romantic,

silly with happiness.

Only this you have not yet remarked:

you are the one

calling the tune.

And me? Darling, I'm dancing!

2.

We've never met in person,

likely never shall,

and yet we touch.

I know you in your images.

I wonder if you know

how much they could only be yours.

You have a particular way

of combining colours, a fondness

for certain patterns and forms….

I know you in your words,

and know your countryside

and your own garden.

Like me, you dwell

in a place of rivers and leaves.

You show me its detail, its shape.

Your paintings evoke a child

falling in love with the earth,

which opens to her delight.

And your poems tell it all —

including the mother, the lover,

the she who's both tender and wise.

I enter your page on bare feet.

We walk your landscape together,

hug each other and smile.

3.

You're growing up so fast,

my Child of Light —

whom I never address that way,

even inside our circle.

I may have mentioned my thought

that the Universe gave us each other

for its own inscrutable reasons.

If I did, you may have heard.

We talk about computers,

music, photography, clothes and food,

what sort of work you fancy

and which boys.

I watch who stalks your profile.

'Get your sleazy paws off,'

I snarl through cyberspace

silently, raising protection.

With home, too, a place of danger

from which you can't yet escape,

you have learnt to be subtle and strong.

It is enough for the moment.

Later, Child of Light,

I will tell you the mysteries

of an ancient star-born race

and a task to fulfil.

4.

Then, I didn't know

you called yourself Moon Goddess.

Round as the moon,

you strode on stage;

your voice 'as big as Texas'

hit the furthest wall

of the long, corridor-style café.

Yelling defiance

or husky with grief,

your words pulled no punches.

I fell in love instantly.

On the footpath after the workshop,

where you'd settled for a fag

with a bunch of your mates

(I guess you'd say buddies?)

you looked up and excused yourself

from labouring to your feet for a hug.

'I'm a big girl,' you said, shrugging.

I bent right down and hugged you anyway.

Later I saw that we must have dislodged

one of my blood-red earrings

onto that dark pavement.

You refused a party invitation

and made yourself late for work

to come to the reading

on my last night in town.

It was quiet with a hint of rain,

the balmy Austin spring

beginning to fray at the edges.

I gave you my book. Your face lit.

When we kissed goodbye, your cheek

was the softest flesh ever felt.

This was a year ago, when you were still 22.

5.

You are the one

who broke my heart,

departing suddenly

without a word

after we'd got so close.

I can still see your face,

its grave beauty

deceptively serene.

Your loving words were like

the touch of a gentle hand.

It wasn't just me.

We were all astounded,

the circle of friends who loved

your kind heart, and the wisdom

hard won, softly shared.

I rejoiced to find a sister

with a firm Christian faith

albeit I am a witch. How deep

we went for common ground,

trusting in Love, Peace and Truth.

Abruptly you were gone.

I know you knew

how much it would hurt.

When another friend went missing,

you were my comforter.

We made enquiries.

You were not ill,

nothing was wrong.

You simply chose to withdraw,

the messenger said.

You might even come back….

Just as well we didn't hold

our collective breath!

The trouble is,

I loved you.

Poems for "Dawn"

I came across a poem in my drafts, written just over a year ago, filed for polishing later, and forgotten. I decided it's fine as it is. I remembered it was inspired by some of the beautiful writings of my friend Dawn – one of my first friends on MySpace and one who will always be in my "top". I hadn't looked at her blog for a while, so I went back and had a look this evening. Her latest post is a pure masterpiece. And the one just before that inspired me again. No-one else writes like Dawn. Few have her clarity! As for me, I am glad to have received, through her good graces, these poems of my own.

The Joy with which You Write of Trees
for Dawn

The joy with which you write of trees,
reminding me of shade and breeze,
of leaves and fruit and oxygen,
their branches and our skeleton —

your words are dancing in the light
as leaves might do; your words are bright
as rippling leaves caught by the sun,
glinting against the background green,

and I at my desk look up to see
right through the walls surrounding me:
to air and birds, to soil and bees …
because you write your love of trees.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

18/1/07


Listen to the River

Listen to the river,
it whispers loudly
this evening as dusk
comes down, black clouds
sitting low on the trees.
It gulps and laps the shore
as the wind springs into gusts
and over the opposite bank
unseen, but far from unheard
the ocean pounds and wallows.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2008

5/3/08

Shared eight years later, linking to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #302. 
Sadly, when MySpace went through radical changes, I lost all contact with Dawn.