[video]
“In the daylight we know
what’s gone is gone,
but at night it’s different.
Nothing gets finished,
not dying, not mourning;
the dead repeat themselves, like clumsy drunks
lurching sideways through the doors
we open them in sleep;
these slurred guests, never entirely welcome,
even those we have loved the most,
especially those we have loved the most,
returning from where we shoved them
away too quickly:
from the ground, from the water,
they clutch at us, they clutch at us,
we won’t let go.”
— Margaret Atwood, from “Two Dreams, 2” in Eating Fire: Selected Poetry, 1965-1995 (Virago, 1998) (via apoetreflects)
(Source: growing-orbits, via fuckyeahexistentialism)
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