The Letter I Never Wrote to Pablo Neruda - Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

[Larry Robinson]

The Letter I Never Wrote to Pablo Neruda


Dear Pablo, 

Because you dared to love Matilde
without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I, too, became the unblooming reed
that carries inside it the radiance of summer days,
the luminosity of moon, the glittering secrets of stars. 
I, too, believed I could be worthy of devotion 
despite my darkness, because my darkness, 
because my shadows, because my shame. 
I embraced love as wood instead of crystal—
something growing, something vital,
something solid and difficult to break. 
Because you spilled love into ink, 
I learned your love by heart.
Your words caressed me and drenched me
like late summer rain, they carried me
through gloomy rooms and moonless years.  
Because you dared to deeply love one woman,
you touched the soul of this other woman,
and I, too, know, because of you,
the perfume of dark carnation, the ripe apple
of happiness, the bliss of being spread out
on a blanket of ancient night, 
a kiss that transcends borders and centuries, 
the gift of a love so obscure it resists translation, 
the gift of a love so personal 
it invites the rest of the world. 

	- Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


*with references to Love Sonnets XII and XVII

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