Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Gate C22


At gate C22 in the Portland airport
a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed
a woman arriving from Orange County.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after
the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons
and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking,
the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other
like he'd just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,
like she'd been released at last from ICU, snapped 
out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down
from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.

Neither of them was young. His beard was gray.
She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine
her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish
kisses like the ocean in the early morning,
the way it gathers and swells, sucking
each rock under, swallowing it
again and again. We were all watching —
passengers waiting for the delayed flight 
to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots, 
the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling
sunglasses. We couldn't look away. We could 
taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.

But the best part was his face. When he drew back
and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost
as though he were a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after — if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now — you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.
The whole wing of the airport hushed,
all of us trying to slip into that woman's middle-aged body,
her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses,
little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up. 

Poem: "Gate C22" by Ellen Bass, from The Human Line

posted by a dear and erudite girl who also collects poetry and prose in her blog here: http://whilethereisstilltime.blogspot.com/


this is love, this is pure love when someone completes you like no one else does. i've felt this and believe me, it is the most amazing feeling in the world. just to cup her face in my hands when we meet... looking at her, but still not looking at her, because eyes are only one of the many sense organs, this is a feeling that goes beyond merely the physical. this completeness is heavenly and wherever there is a love like this, it makes the world a much better, wholesome place. and this is why i wanted to share this poem with you. because love like this lights-up the world, even when it is between only two.

2 comments:

ADH said...

Few people are blessed with this kind of love. When you hold someone's hand and it does not simply feel physical but beyond that, you can be sure that you are holding the right hand. I had to think a lot as to what should I comment on this. Normally, I do not compulsorily comment on every post that I read, but I wanted to comment on this one. Just needed time.
The words used to describe the bond between the two are TOO good, feelings, they can rarely be expressed in words. But, if you want words, none can compare to these -

almost as though he were a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after — if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now — you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.

Thanks a lot for sharing, Adee.


GBU
Arti

Anil P said...

Absolutely. It elevates the experience of another, reaffirms some beliefs that might've slipped away unnoticed, and reassures that in the end all is well than ends well.

dreamt before

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