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The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, January 13, 2003 |
| Submitted Date |
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Sunday, July 31, 2011 |
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Read poems about / on: mirror, smile, love, heart, life, time
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Comments about this poem (Love After Love
by
Derek Walcott
) |
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Courtney English (12/13/2011 2:52:00 AM)
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This poem is so simple yet revealingly true.
But why do I long to be reconciled with the one I love
Yet having viewed my own beauty?
I cannot fulfil my yearning for companionship!
Is there a poem for this lone man that only looks at other women?
Yearning only for the mind of her that is gone?
How can I reach her heart with no given door to open?
How can I place my heart in view of her wondrous eyes that lead to her emotion?
How?
Will I strive for love till I die?
And the grief is tangible, unending.
The pool of my tears is dried up.
My queen … I love you!
Help!
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Lyssa L'Orange (7/29/2011 8:13:00 PM)
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This might be my all-time favorite poem. Words cannot express the emotion and the hope that I felt after reading this for the first time, and many times after that. It makes me think and it makes me want to live. It makes me want to be. It's absolutely wonderful, lovely, incredible; all the while being simple and humble. Thank you, Derek Walcott.
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millie kinillie (5/9/2011 4:07:00 AM)
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this poem is about meeting 'self'. we have the self that we present to the world our persona i guess, but we also have a true self. the real self that lies beneath the masks that we put on. we are so busy doing and running that sometimes, maybe all the time, we forget that these masks that we put on for other people are not the real us at all. i feel this poem is about us rediscovering our real true selves. the true self of course is pure love and beauty and i feel the author means that when we finally meet this part of ourself that it is then that we will greet ourselves with elation. it is then that we can truly be. we can sit and feast on our lives, look with love admiration and without judgement on our lives, on ourselves. because when we finally discover who we truly are, finaly meet our true self we go past ego, we can just simply Be. This is probably the most beautiful poem Ii have ever read.
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Aida Melesse (4/6/2011 4:13:00 PM)
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One of my favorite piece! Coming home after a long exile!
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Aida Melesse (4/6/2011 4:10:00 PM)
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One of my favorite piece! ! Coming back home after a long exile! !
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Melissa Corpus (9/5/2010 12:49:00 AM)
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Wow, I thought it was unimaginable to put into words the insight of the soul for lost and the spirit's determination to heal; instead of die alive. To regain yourself, for life is not over. To me this poem is beautiful.
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Ano Ja (4/29/2010 5:47:00 AM)
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what does it mean, 'feast on your life'?
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Raven Schwan-noble (1/26/2009 6:26:00 PM)
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It is a poem that speaks to your heart, as you imerge like a butterfly, from the depths of grief, after the loss of your heartmate of 30 yrs.
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Patrick Lee (8/22/2008 7:56:00 PM)
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Suppose for a moment that I am not alone in my existence, and neither are you. Suppose-consider the possibility-that we loved one another perfectly in time and space and eternity. Once upon a time. Once. And suppose that God drew near to us and showed us the possibilities of lives here in this dimension on earth. No, no wait. Don't turn away. Just imagine for a moment that this might have been. I agreed to live in a body of flesh and bone, and I left you, knowing you would follow, and that our lives would be spent looking for each other-our other half. I missed you, deep, deep in my heart and soul and spirit because you ARE me. I loved you before I even knew your name. And now I have found you. What would I say to you? Perhaps...The time will come, when, with elation...
Maybe that's what Mr. Walcott meant.
Read The Time Traveler's Wife.
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Shae Flight (7/15/2008 10:23:00 PM)
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hey this is a really nice poem
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13
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