'i gradually comprehend'

where we put leftover love

Funerary Mask, Indonesia (Java), 14th c., gold, Public Domain

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How Poems Are Made/A Discredited View 

by Alice Walker

Letting go
In order to hold one
I gradually understand
How poems are made. 

There is a place the fear must go.
There is a place the choice must go.
There is a place the loss must go.
The leftover love.

The love that spills out
Of the too full cup
And runs and hides
Its too full self
In shame. 

I gradually comprehend
How poems are made.
To the upbeat flight of memories.
The flagged beats of the running
Heart. 

I understand how poems are made.
They are the tears,
That season, the smile.
The stiff-neck laughter
That crowds the throat.
The leftover love.

I know how poems are made. 
There is a place the loss must go.
There is a place the gain must go.
The leftover love.

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Creative Invitation

Draw or write about the leftover love, the spillings, the dregs, the golden river, the flood of love that fills your wrists and fingers, the extra, the love with no place to go yet.

What is the love you ache to give?