TO THE WOMAN WHO IS NOT

I sat alone in a dark and unfound blackness,
A blackness stiff with night and the choking breathlessness that comes
With the fear of darkness to a fool.
And there came to me a Woman
Who said to me with the resonance of the shining brightness
Of her lovely body:

"It is not true, young seeker, that a Creator--
In the magic of his power--
Made from the rib of Man a Woman:
That Man might never be alone.
It is not true!
Remember this; and let your wanderings and searchings
Have a system and a plan that will acknowledge,
To yourself and to your maddened gropings,
The truth of this that I have said to you.
Go! Seek and learn--but still remember
And do not try to learn this Thing
For which there is no answer--only madness."

And so this shining Woman left me,
Left me to struggle for my breath
In the pressing blackness that has always been my life,
Left me to go on searching--
Because she told me not to search--
For that thing that never was,
That thing no man will ever find.

TO THE WOMAN WHO IS NOT

I set alone in a dark and unfound blackness,
A blackness stiff with night and the choking breathlessness that comes
With the fear of darkness to a fool.
And there came to me a Woman
Who said to me with the resonance of the shining brightness
Of her lovely body: