Notes from a small island
A weblog by Jonathan Ali


Friday, August 29, 2003  

I wake up cold, I who
Prospered through dreams of heat
Wake to their residue,
Sweat, and a clinging sheet.

My flesh was its own shield:
Where it was gashed, it healed.

I grew as I explored
The body I could trust
Even while I adored
The risk that made robust,

A world of wonders in
Each challenge to the skin.

I cannot but be sorry
The given shield was cracked,
My mind reduced to hurry,
My flesh reduced and wrecked.

I have to change the bed,
But catch myself instead

Stopped upright where I am
Hugging my body to me
As if to shield it from
The pains that will go through me,

As if hands were enough
To hold an avalanche off.

-- "The Man with Night Sweats" by Thom Gunn, from the Collected Poems.

posted by Jonathan | 11:18 AM 0 comments

0 Comments:

save boissiere house
archives
links
Bina Shah
Nicholas Laughlin
Caribbean Free Radio
Antilles
StudioFilmClub
Global Voices
Jessie Girl
Club Soda and Salt
Caribbean Cricket
Seldo
Titilayo
Jai Arjun Singh
email me