The Fist
by Derek Walcott

The fist clenched round my heart
loosens a little, and I gasp
brightness; but it tightens
again. When have I ever not loved
the pain of love? But this has moved

past love to mania. This has the strong
clench of the madman, this is
gripping the ledge of unreason, before
plunging howling into the abyss.

Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.

Is there a way to shut it all down?


Everytime I feel like giving in, something reminds me how much it hurt.

I’m less ready than I thought, and I don’t want to risk it again.

I look at you and who you’ve become and no longer see someone I know. And hopefully, I’ll be able to be reacquainted with a new friend, because beginnings are always more promising.

Have not been updating this space but there is simply too much to put in words these days. Feelings too obscure to be out into words. All I know is that – you become a much more cautious person when you know how much you have to lose. Once bitten, twice shy