Schmaltz

Ever been in love? I have. Wrote a poem about it once...like to hear it, here it go:

20 March 07

(I)

My heart still beats for a happy ending
An ending that has ended
Yet my heart still beats

And
Most of the time
Time just wounds my healing

(II)

Out of solitary
Ever so seldom
My memories released, running amok...
The heart lives while weeping

But those slivers of joy
Tucked so far away
They really happened!
To me! I was there!

I can walk those paths again
See her eyes alight
See her so happy
It's joy, anchored in sadness, and I continue

The guards will come back, of course
Just doing their job, of course
Absurdity
They've already extracted everything possible

The hour in the yard has ended
But what an hour...
The only reprieve
My sentence allows


Postscript: For those not Jewish, either by birth or, as in the case of the young lady referenced above, by injection, the title of the post, while technically decribing chicken fat, is the Yiddish noun for something that's a little sappy, even maudlin. In this particular case, just alluding to the symptoms of heart disease instead of simply being one...


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