#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Three Leaves on a Vine
Our romance began long distance. We were too broke to see each other as often as we wanted. So, we learned to talk bravely, listen attentively, over the phone. Even now, thirty years later, one of us is often traveling. This morning, here I am, walking in the New England woods; there he is, waking in a mid-west time zone. For a half an hour, while I speak intensely into this thing in my hand, I can tell he's listening, because from this thing in my hand he's responding compassionately. Then, I remember a Robert Bly poem I read years ago – about the ineffable something he calls a third body that's created out of a deep connection between a man and a woman who love each other, and last.
When I get home, I look up this poem,The Third Body, and wonder if that's what a cell phone must be.
“A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long
at this moment to be older, or younger, nor born
in any other nation, or time, or place.
They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking.
Their breaths together feed someone whom we do not know.
. . .
They obey a third body that they share in common.
They have made a promise to love that body.
. . . ”
All photos and text by Kelly DuMar 2017 unless otherwise attributed