Love at First Sight
They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?
I want to ask them
if they don’t remember—
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.
They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket?
There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.
— Wislawa Szymborska, Collected and Last Poems.
https://poets.org/poem/love-first-sight
Connie
npub146…tvgjn
2024-04-21 09:10:50
Author Public Key
npub1468024mrwz6uhywjvt8s6vw4e604egnv8tfd2m2utrmqyd3nu3fsutvgjnPublished at
2024-04-21 09:10:50Event JSON
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"content": "Love at First Sight\n\nThey’re both convinced\nthat a sudden passion joined them.\nSuch certainty is beautiful,\nbut uncertainty is more beautiful still.\n\nSince they’d never met before, they’re sure\nthat there’d been nothing between them.\nBut what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—\nperhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?\n\nI want to ask them\nif they don’t remember—\na moment face to face\nin some revolving door?\nperhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?\na curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—\nbut I know the answer.\nNo, they don’t remember.\n\nThey’d be amazed to hear\nthat Chance has been toying with them\nnow for years.\n\nNot quite ready yet\nto become their Destiny,\nit pushed them close, drove them apart,\nit barred their path,\nstifling a laugh,\nand then leaped aside.\n\nThere were signs and signals,\neven if they couldn’t read them yet.\nPerhaps three years ago\nor just last Tuesday\na certain leaf fluttered\nfrom one shoulder to another?\nSomething was dropped and then picked up.\nWho knows, maybe the ball that vanished\ninto childhood’s thicket?\n\nThere were doorknobs and doorbells\nwhere one touch had covered another\nbeforehand.\nSuitcases checked and standing side by side.\nOne night, perhaps, the same dream,\ngrown hazy by morning.\n\nEvery beginning\nis only a sequel, after all,\nand the book of events\nis always open halfway through.\n\n— Wislawa Szymborska, Collected and Last Poems.\n\nhttps://poets.org/poem/love-first-sight",
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