Poetry: Maryellen Cammarosano

filling the pail

I cannot risk my heart for you
when for others I walked arms out into

an open field in a storm,
and looked up boldly at the darkening sky

sometimes I am like one of these trees,

an old forest oak
at the beginning of the line of inevitable lovers
who want to carve their initials in me

when you go into the wilderness of people,
anything can happen,

someone once said that you are forever changed
with each lover you meet

as I study the lines across my forehead
I do not doubt it is true.

I am at once better and worse for loving you.
but I do not want such unearthing

now, I want the soft grass against my feet,
the late morning sun on my face,

I take the cows to pasture
I take refuge in the fields,
the alfalfa,
let their gentle fragrance lift me to heaven

I understand intimately the bluebell

Love isn’t easy, I know it now for sure
but I would say

to know it when you have it
but once you have had the real thing
you seldom want it again in the same way

I know not to possess another,
I know I do not want to be possessed,

I know love is an extension of oneself,

I know not to depend on one person
for my happiness but

since I have grown older,

I want filling the heart to be more easy
as when I take this bucket to the well
and fill it.