BY ÖZLEM | Large Image
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Deep and significant intimate accessory may be the item, perhaps maybe not the catalyst, of a relationship that is loving

My favourite love poem barely reads just like a love poem at all. In Seamus Heaney’s “Scaffolding,” the belated Irish poet compares the wedding he shares together with spouse Marie to not a flower or perhaps a springtime or birdsong but towards the scaffolding that masons erect when starting construction for a building.

Masons, Heaney writes, “Are careful to try the scaffolding out; / Make certain that planks won’t slide at busy points, / Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints;” — work that is maybe maybe not used on the edifice it self but supports the more strive in the future. Their care just takes care of “when the job’s done,” when “all this comes down” to show “walls of certain and solid rock.” Such, he implies, is love: that we've built our wall surface. if you place when you look at the perseverance, enthusiast and beloved can “let the scaffolds fall / Confident”

I like much about that poem — its solidness, its succinctness, its simple, workmanlike clarity. The majority of all though, I like just just how utterly unromantic it's. In five sharp couplets, Heaney reminds us that love — and wedding specially — is mysticism that is n’t. It’s maybe perhaps not guesswork. It will be has nothing to do with stars aligning. No, love is labour, and like any good work it takes quite a while to create.