I take my leave, finding it harder to open than whatever else. A succession
unprepared. There is a next in line and then there is the end stop. Once,
I believed in fairness: The planets with their choices, retrograde and sextile,
all the trines to follow. Your birth chart filled with fish and water
in their strenuous upstream migration. Have you looked at mine?
Last year began with fires on the west coast and ended with fires across the world
and somehow still everything continued on its axis, all the fish and all the water
all the alignment, even when sideways. I do not understand a thing about bravery,
or how anything happens at all. For quite awhile before you left, I was trying to convince
myself it was a real love-affair.
[Note: all italics in Dear John poems this month come from the Dear John letter sent between Agnes von Kurowsky and Ernest Hemingway in 1919]
I do not understand a thing about bravery – love that!
that first liiiiiiiine
I am imagining planets making choices and I’m not going to stop doing that because I like it too much!