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I'm Major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. I recently watched a movie about a widow and a younger man. It reminded me how classic the trope of forbidden love is. A couple from the wrong side of the tracks meet up in high school, or a couple of differing ages or cultural backgrounds become the basis of those heart wrenching narratives for which we need cathartic treatment. Maybe it's because who we love is still taboo in some communities. We have yet to fully move beyond starkly rigid notions of love. Who we choose as the object of our affections and desire is a fundamental choice. It is an act of ultimate freedom, one that is as natural as breathing. Thankfully, at the end of the day, it is difficult to police another person's heart. Today's classic poem knows that loving hearts create possibilities. For us to exist as full and whole human beings, we need as many examples as possible of sweet passion and friendship. It might be the key to our survival. The Canonization by John Donne For God's sake, hold your tongue and let me love. Or chide my palsy or my gout, My five gray hairs or ruined fortune flout with wealth your state your mind with arts improve, Take you a course, get you a place Observe his honor or his grace, or the king's rill, or his stampd face Contemplate what you will approve so you will let me love. Alas, alas, who's injured by my love? What merchant ships have my sighs drowned? Who says my tears have overflowed his ground? When did my codes of forward spring remove? When did the heats which my veins fill? Add one more to the Plaguy bill. Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still litigious men which quarrels move. Though she and I do love. Call us what you will, we are made such by love. Call her one me another fly. We're tapirs too, and at our own cost die and we in us find the eagle and the dove, the phoenix Riddle hath more wit by us, we two being one, are it so to one neutral thing both sexes fit we die and rise the same and prove mysterious. By this love we can die by it, if not live by love and if unfit for tombs, and hearse our legend be, it will be fit for verse. And if no piece of chronicle we prove, we'll build in Sonnet's pretty rooms as well. A well wrought urn becomes the greatest ashes, as half acre tombs, and by these hymns all shall approve us canonized for love, and thus invoke us. You whom Reverend Love made one another's hermitage, you to whom love was peace that now is rage, who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove into the glasses of your eyes, so made such mirrors and such spies, that they did all to you epitomize countries, towns, courts, beg from above a pattern of your love. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram at Slowdown Show Give your loved ones the gift of poetry this year with Poetry Magazine. Poetry's gift bundle includes a one year print and digital subscription to the magazine, plus a limited edition tote bag. Your loved ones will receive 10 beautifully curated volumes of contemporary poetry and unlimited digital access through the Poetry Magazine app. It's a gift that lasts all year. Subscribe today@poetrymagazine.org slow that's poetrymagazine.org slow.
