Burton Meltzer (1932-1984) *51

Cannot imagine a fate worse than loving and honoring someone who in turn feels little but contempt. Never knew anything could be so painful.

Outdated links, fields auto-populated, and she is fine! What a tremendous relief.

The ache of silently grieving when one is deemed to have no right to grieve. Roethke...

I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;

And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;

And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,

And she balanced in the delight of her thought,

A wren, happy, tail into the wind,

Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.

The shade sang with her;

The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,

And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,

Even a father could not find her:

Scraping her cheek against straw,

Stirring the clearest water.

My sparrow, you are not here,

Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.

The sides of wet stones cannot console me,

Nor the moss, wound with the last light.

If only I could nudge you from this sleep,

My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.

Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:

I, with no rights in this matter,

Neither father nor lover.

Trying to remember you

is like carrying water

in my hands a long distance

across sand. Somewhere

people are waiting.

They have drunk nothing for days.

Hi Burt... Oh, I'm just sad. People have a lot of silly rules about what is and is not ethical. No? It worries me that she is listed now as simply LPC ... well, not really because of money, as we both know she could be making a small fortune doing something else. But why the link to COPD? That frightens me. You can heal her up, yes? Take good care of your daughter and my dear sister, Burton. She looks so much like your lovely wife :) news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1928&dat=19550629&id=ovUpAAAAIBAJ&sjid=tmYFAAAAIBAJ&pg=7002,268775

Http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW9Cu6GYqxo

Please take good care of her, Burton. I worry so about her. I am in this horrid position of not being able to know, at all, how she is doing. And there is no one for me to talk to... no one who understands. I just wanted her to be happy. I still do. I am very happy, most of the time, except when someone I love is suffering. I know that you understand. I feel as if I love so many people, so very much, yet she has said that I don't know how to love. I need your help, Burton. I am not afraid of dying, but I am so tired of being in so much pain. I think that if I could change my heart, there would not be so much pain, but I don't think that I would change my heart, even if I could. God has been answering so many of my prayers, and I don't know why. I am trying not to be frightened of that. If you could help me to understand what is happening, I would be very grateful. Thank you.

Do you see how it is snowing here, Burton? It is so cold. It brings to mind a poem... I hope you can enjoy it...

I classed, appraising once,

Earth's lamentable sounds; the welladay,

The jarring yea and nay,

The fall of kisses on unanswering clay,

The sobbed farewell, the welcome mournfuller; --

But all did leaven the air

With a less bitter leaven of sure despair,

Than these words -- “I loved ONCE.”

And who saith, “I loved ONCE?”

Not angels, whose clear eyes, love, love, foresee,

Love through eternity,

Who, by To Love, do apprehend To Be.

Not God, called LOVE, his noble crown-name, -- casting

A light too broad for blasting!

The great God changing not from everlasting,

Saith never, “I loved ONCE.”

Nor ever the “Loved ONCE.”

Dost THOU say, Victim-Christ, misprized friend

The cross and curse may rend;

But, having loved, Thou lovest to the end

It is man's saying -- man's. Too weak to move

One sphered star above,

Man desecrates the eternal God-word Love

With his No More, and Once.

How say ye, “We loved once,”

Blasphemers? Is your earth not cold enow,

Mourners, without that snow?

Ah, friends! and would ye wrong each other so?

And could ye say of some, whose love is known,

Whose prayers have met your own,

Whose tears have fallen for you, whose smiles have shone,

Such words, “We loved them ONCE?”

Could ye, “We loved her once,”

Say calm of me, sweet firiends, when out of sight?

When hearts of better right

Stand in between me and your happy light?

And when, as flowers kept too long in the shade,

Ye find my colors fade,

And all that is not love in me, decayed?

Such words -- Ye loved me ONCE!

Could ye, “We loved her once,”

Say cold of me, when further put away

In earth's sepulchral clay?

When mute the lips which deprecate to-day? --

Not so! not then -- least then! When Life is shriven,

And Death's full joy is given, --

Of those who sit and love you up in Heaven,

Say not, “We loved them once.”

Say never, ye loved ONCE!

God is too near above, the grave, below,

And all our moments go

Too quickly past our souls, for saying so.

The mysteries of Life and Death avenge

Affections light of range --

There comes no change to justify that chance,

Whatever comes -- loved ONCE!

And yet that word of ONCE

Is humanly acceptive! Kings have said

Shaking a discrowned head,

“We ruled once,” -- dotards, “We once taught and led” --

Cripples once danced i' the vines -- and bards approved,

Were once by scornings, moved:

But love strikes one hour -- Love. Those never loved,

Who dream that they loved ONCE.

I hope that you are loved, Burt.

I pray for death. But once again I am awake. Bless you, Burton, and all you love.

Oh, Burton. I am so lost and alone. If you have any influence with anyone, please. I know I am just a sad, lonely old woman calling out into space, to the father of the woman I love. But God. Why is this website even here, Burton?