this is not about getting it right, figuring things out, or hitting a bull's-eye. this is not about an obsession with word choice or an exacting eye on grammatical correctness. this is not about pulling out all the stops with tricky literary devices. this is about looking at life one paragraph at time.
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
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Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
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© by Maya Stein
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Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
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Monday, May 29, 2006
on grief and healing
"Go to the grave of buried love, and meditate. There, settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited - every past endearment unregarded - of the departed being, who can never, never return to be soothed by thy contrition! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moment thy kindness or truth; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee; if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold beneath thy feet - then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul; then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear - more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing." - from The Country Gentleman: A Journal for the Farm, the Garden, and the Fireside, July 31, 1862.
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2 comments:
This is lovely and universal and timeless. I might be late on the bandwagon here, but I like the look of your new blog page. Glad to have it because I miss you and your writing, girl!
Steph
"you'll be sorry when i'm dead and gone" i remember my mother sometimes saying and i think often now of what regrets she must have carried to know this.
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