A Psalm of What Happens When I Submit to Love : Sunday Salon

A Psalm of What Happens When I Submit to Love

By Bernadette McComish

I am poured out like water,
spilled onto the floor, soaked into wood.

A terrible loneliness forces me
to love a man who says I don’t love you,
too many times.

Removed from me: all things visible,
I will not forget the one who came before.

O Lord,
I shall no longer look
for you in another man’s bed.

I’m sure, I am poured out like water,
slipped backward into the oceans.

I who am in love
have forgotten how to sleep alone.
In this bondage I am broken
and hungry.

How did my body liquefy
into a pool of bones?

I am poured out like water,
do you hear me,

I hide
not, fear
not, want.

What shall I sacrifice
for healing and how do I
find you—
How many times do I have to be alone
before love
like yours.


  1. Tony Avallone on October 5th, 2010 2:53 am

    I related to the words in so much as they reminded me of my youth and youthful visions of the world. Searching for that one true love, believing what we are told. Love is all there is, Love is all you need, and Love concurs all. I remember a time when I loved a woman more than life itself. I would have gladly died for her. I remember how the touch of her hand on my head could calm me even though at the time I was filled with rage and frustration. How when she looked into my eyes and smiled all of the darkness in the world vanished as if The Dawn was braking the night. I knew as long as she loved me I would never want or need anyone or anything else. I could sustain myself on the power of that love alone. And when she left me I died. I was reborn to a new life. The dreams of childhood were gone, it was not so bright, or warm, or inviting, The Dawn never came replaced by an endless variation of shadows some darker than others, but there was still life. I learned through that experience that, at least for me there was no “One True Love”. Love is a fleeting emotion that demands work to sustain it. Love cannot be based love on fire of passion and sexually. My reality is that sex and passion are not part of love at all. You may have passion for someone you love, but you may have passion for someone you don’t love, conversely you may love someone you have no passion for. Life draws people together and pulls them apart. The lucky few find synchronicity and prolong the time there lives move them together. Our heads are filled with fairy tales as children, and we have trouble as adults reconciling what we want to believe from what is real. Reality is not always such a pretty place, and is often dark and cold, but it is this very contrast that allows is to know and appreciate what pleasures are possible. We need only to be willing to brave pain to experience fleeting pleasure.