Your Laughter
For Dawn,
after a poem by Pablo Neruda
January 30, 2017
You have taken a bit of light with you
into the dark
Night of the universe
A bit of chocolate from our days
Salt from our stews –
Not bread, not air, for our lives go on
–
Full and brisk and elemental
As seasons’ change.
But your laughter
Its echo
Its warmth
Lingers like candle smoke
The rose’s prick
The water’s chill
The salt in the caramel’s sweet –
The silver of your love
Ringing against our bell chamber hearts
That fill and empty again
As each wave of memory fills us with joy
And recedes into loss.
We do not struggle to honor you
To feel saturated with the light in
which you lived your days
To see through your love-colored glasses
The changing earth
Our daily struggles
Our small triumphs of growth
And to feel again the gravity of your
goodness
Your belief in the inevitability of our
betterment
The impossible strength of your twisted
hands.
And when we hear again your laugh
See the twinkle of your baby blues
In the brash vastness of the sky
The tap-dance of dew on the flagrant
softness of petals
Your love enters again
Rising to seek the best in us
To open the doors of our belief in
ourselves and the good we can do
To gouge beauty into us as water into
canyons
Deep
Where only love can go.
Dawn, in this hour
When we listen for you
Your laughter opens
Us to life –
Its dark challenges
And extravagant blessings.
And if suddenly
You feel us lose hope,
Laugh, because your laughter
Will be for our hands
A fresh task
To weave love
Out of our life’s work
In all the ways we work –
Working together
And working to gather
The joy in each moment
As you did.
As you managed to do,
Right to the end.
Next to the volcanoes at sunrise,
Your laughter must raise
Its bubbly cascade,
And in the evening, Dawn,
We want your laughter like
The moment we were waiting for,
The quiet confirmation of the trick to
your
Endless energy to add your light to the world,
Which echoes with the light of your
love.
Laugh at the night,
At the day, at the moon,
Laugh at the congested
Streets of this city,
Laugh at these clumsy
Friends who love you,
But when we close our eyes
And open them,
When our steps go,
When our steps return,
Deny us chocolate,
Deny us salt,
Light, spring,
But never your laughter
For in that sound echoing in our ears
You will never die.
Your Laughter,
Pablo Neruda
Take bread away from me, if
you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
