Wednesday Wistful #1

Ecstasy

As we made love on the third day,
cloudy and dark, as we did not stop
but went into it and into it and
did not hesitate and did not hold back we
rose up through the air, until we were up above
timber line. The lake lay
icy and silver, the surface shirred,
reflecting nothing. The black rocks
lifted around it into the grainy
sepia air, the patches of snow
brilliant white, and even though we
did not know where we were, we could not
speak the language, we could hardly see, we
did not stop, rising with the black rocks
to the black hills, the black
mountains rising from the hills. Resting
on the crest of the mountains, one huge
cloud with scalloped edges of blazing
evening light, we did not turn back,
we stayed at it, even though we were
far beyond what we knew, we rose
into the grain of the cloud, even though
nothing grew there, even though it is a
place from which no one has ever come back.

Sharon Olds (19.11.42 – )

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