Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart,
bleeding within me,
called you tender names.
It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop,
while my own love,
kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.
– Kahlil Gibran –
That public defiance in direct opposite to the internal cries for comfort. The awareness – and madness within – of those that can see and recognize it, yet helpless in its clutch.
This reminds me a lot of what Pablo Neruda would say at times.
Oh! I hadn’t thot of Neruda but yes, you’re right. Those oppositional pulls can tear… and yet, still be a balm. It’s crazy… or I am. 😉