“Flesh assigns me to myself without any possible return…” Jean-Luc Marion, In Excess, 96.
I am rather worse
for wear. A little blind, a
little lame: without
you I’d lose my mind.
Allow an old man one last
chance at the good life.
No need to make things
up. You are the gift of flesh
that makes me me, in
solitude, in hope.
This world’s a fine place now with
you in it with me.
Love your children, love
the others that glad your life.
My small, perfect world.
The poem’s ease belies its insightfulness. It shows the reader how the ‘self’ is composed of openness and connection. ‘My’ small world is ‘perfect’, that is beautifully itself because it is shaped by generous difference, ‘the others that gladden your life’,