<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389972" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To a Transatlantic Mirror</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we become truly ourselves, we just become a swinging door. . .<br>-Suzuki</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sick of the self,<br>the self-seducing self-<br>with its games, its fears,<br>its misty memories, and its prix fixe menu<br>of seductions (so familiar<br>even to the seducer)<br>that he grows sick<br>of looking at himself<br>in the mirrored ceiling<br>before he takes the plunge into this new<br>distraction from the self<br>which in fact leads back<br>to self.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Self-the prison.<br>Love-the answer and the door.<br>And yet the self should also be a door,<br>swinging, letting loves both in and out,<br>for change<br>is the world's only fixity, and fixity<br>her foremost lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How to trust love<br>which has so often<br>betrayed the betrayer,<br>seduced the seducer,<br>and then turned out<br>to be not even love?<br>We are jaded,<br>divorced from our selves<br>without ever having found<br>ourselves-and yet we<br>long for wholeness<br>if not fixity,<br>for harmony<br>if not music of the spheres.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If life is a flood<br>and there is no ark,<br>then where do the animals float<br>two by two?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I refuse to believe<br>that the flesh falls<br>from their bones<br>without ever understanding<br>ever coming,<br>and I refuse to believe<br>that we must leave<br>this life entirely alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Much harumphing<br>across the ocean,<br>my brother poet coughs,<br>clears his throat<br>(he smokes too much),<br>and gazes into the murky<br>depths of his word-processor,<br>as if it were a crystal ball.<br>I do not know<br>all that hides<br>in his heart of darkness<br>but I know I love<br>the thoughts<br>that cloud the surface<br>of his crystal ball.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He longs to leap<br>headlong into his future<br>and cannot.<br>This chapter's finished,<br>his self peels back<br>a skin.<br>Snakes hiss,<br>shedding their scales.<br>The goddess smiles.<br>She sends her missives<br>only to the brave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Erica+Jong">Erica Jong</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389972" data-title="To a Transatlantic Mirror de Erica Jong" data-description="When we become truly ourselves, we just become a swinging door. . . -Suzuki Sick of the self, the self-seducing self- with its games, its fears, its misty memories, and its prix fixe menu of seductions (so familiar even to the seducer) that he gr..."></div> </div> </div>

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