A Riddle for the Heart

A Poem by Paris Hlad

A Riddle for the Heart[1]

Who will remain?

Who will depart?

It is a riddle

For the heart!

And yet I know most certainly,

It could be you,

Or maybe me

No matter looms with greater weight,

Than which of us unlocks the gate,

As there can be no fond return,

Despite how well

The candles burn

I think it should be me, my sweet,

For I am like the winter’s wheat,

Made ready by the change and chill,

And having purpose to fulfill �"

And it could well be me, my dear,

For my heart lurches in the fear

That keeps me seated near a light,

As love grows restive in the night

I know it must be one of two

And how I hope it is not you!

We are one thing and yet seem more

Than what can pass beyond the door �"

Much like a tree, with spreading limbs

Or like a seed that backward swims

Out of the egg, into the sack �"

Not moving on,

But sliding back

Too hard, too hard to see it through,

When what is lost is me-and-you!

Too bitter is the Eucharist,

When taken with a clenching fist!

Too difficult to contemplate,

When what in truth

Must pass the gate

Is neither you nor me, my dear,

But us as one, and one still here.^{^[2]}

[1] Paris once told the story of a summer playing chess with an old man who fought in the First World War. He was a Polish guy who had spent much of his life in sales, lived all over the place, and had married four or five times. One day, Paris left his queen en prise: “Now, I’m dead,” Paris said. “No, you’re not dead,” the old man joked. “It just loses you this stupid game, but you will never play chess well if you are too attached to your queen.” It may interest the reader to know that the poet was at one time the associate director of the United States Chess Federation. He was sacked in 1986 and took a job as an English literature teacher in 1989.

[2] Although marriage between confetti bees is sometimes based on things other than love, it is more commonly a union based only on love. When one of its members dies, the loss is a fatal amputation because confetti bees tend to believe their marriage (their love) is what they are.