Does a poem like this allow a comment? Conversation breaks poetry. And if we insist, we’ll find ourselves talking “about it” and not the “it” itself. Between the spaces created by this arms length distance, perhaps the best one can do is not to crowd out the poet. I don’t like sentiments that encourage conscious community but a poem that drives me back into my own solitude draws me out the most. But this, “the older you grow, the more you will amputate,” makes me look back and wonder about this feeling. Perhaps it is the age thing, or may be it is just a matter of the degree of kindness (“Be kind”), but the restless ego, the lurking vanity that churns this sentiment comes with its own parasitic staying power. So much awareness of one’s own kindness…! I am remembering reading somewhere along the following lines: “He stood in front of me, stared me into my eyes with a look of affection, embraced me with overflowing emotion and said see how beautiful he was.”

Backhanded compliment that was not, but just a little note saying when I come back next time, I look for more intensity, this time, the ego-less heart, not the threatening heartless ego that announces the self in the above poem. Not as a demand from a vain reader, but a hope for a rose without a thorn, or something like that…! :- )

Regards, Crazyfinger