Pacific Saudade

This Noguchi sculpture encased
in glass on the departures level inside the San Francisco Airport soothes

my incurable longing
for what those Big Sur rocks would not release. That he could have been

my soul mate doesn’t matter—he’s been gone
since I was a young woman. That this other creator

of darkest beauty could be is
a lie I tell myself

to keep my feet from straying
off the cliff side path. I believe in

an art that mates soul to soul for a moment. And that is enough
to fly home on.

8 thoughts on “Pacific Saudade

  1. Lovely. “Soul mate” and “mates soul to soul” – artful repetition. Love the last line–so true of life in general that if we have “enough to fly home on” that has to be, well, enough. Poignant. As always, thanks for writing.

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  2. Based on rumplestick’s comment above, I looked up the word saudade. When I saw it in the title of the poem, I thought it was a place, but I see it’s so much more. Now my mind can know the word my heart already does. Lovely.

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  3. It is one of my favorite words, which has no real equivalent in English. I believe I carry saudade deep within my soul. Maybe that’s why I have such a hard time answering the question of where home is.

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