Marriage.
My brother was married to the beautiful Emma a few weeks ago. He asked me to pen them a poem for the occassion and read it on the day - a daunting task!
It took me a long time to come up with a suitable idea and even longer still to write the silly thing. But I got there in the end.
I was an absolute plate of jelly on the day, shaking with nerves and feeling very vulnerable. Writing poetry is one thing, reading it at your brother's wedding is another.
Anyway, I thought I'd share what I wrote with you. The only thing to know is that my brother is a science major, and obsessed with wine, especially pinot noir. In fact, he's currently in France on his honeymoon drinking gallons of the stuff.
To Know and Be Known
What does this thing, this eddying,
falling, swaying thing- love - look
like?
Have you seen the right ventral
tegmental region of the brain
throwing dopamine around like
confetti?
The pre-frontal cortex pulling data
into patterns, building pathways and
monitoring progress towards
something
mystical and praiseworthy
until those chemicals shift
like
holograms, slowing
to a kind of mercurial calm;
a love that lasts the decades.
Or perhaps it's less like brain
science
and more like a climate – yours
that of a pinot grape, demanding
warm days and cool evenings,
chalky clay, and air crisp like
freshly
laundered sheets to produce
a limited, but complex palette.
That place where your love began,
that fertile ground where two
curling
vines were grafted into a matrix
altogether more robust-
that must've been something to
behold.
And only you can tell of the
careful pruning which took place
in quieter moments, leading
to bud bursts, shoots, leaves and
fruit hanging ripe from the vine,
sugar just below the surface
with enough piquancy to satisfy
a thirsty tongue.
What a vintage, this promise - to
know and be known.
