Letter to Harper from Halfway to the Horizon
Dear Stephanie: No one connects here, and no matter
how resolutely we trudge forward, ignoring spinal fusions
and attacking hearts, the line skips lightly ahead, mocking us,
I think, in that way only the ineffable may claim. Looking
out, I see a lone wren, clouds filtering the stars, and strands
of barbed wire looped like question marks around cedar
stumps, punctuating the day’s greeting. No answers there,
only more inquiries blanching under the sun. But this
is my febrile landscape, not your lush green headed by
gray. Nothing matters, or, everything’s imperative.
In this gnarled season I can’t tell which, although
the vulture ripping into a squirrel carcass on my
suburban front lawn tells me something ain’t quite
right. Full or empty, the glass is still a glass, despite
my propensity for seeking more, whether cava or beer
or yes, enlightenment. I fear this reveals too much
about me, and wonder if I should draw the shade or
keep tugging it higher, admitting more light. Have you
ever noticed that half often amounts to less the closer
you get to it, each portion diminishing, divided by two,
and again, until only a thin shadow vaguely resembling
the original shape remains? Perhaps this is how we’re
meant to exit as failures on this field. The horizon’s
still there, red stroking green, clouds feathering in,
and maybe if we keep walking we’ll reach it in a sunburst
of doves and glittering red dahlias. Yeah, right. In the
meantime, let’s multiply our losses and sculpt another
morning truer than its source, stronger than its media. Our
optimism has already blown this joint. What else have we
got to lose? I remain, as ever, yours in insolence, Bob.
Originally penned in January 2017, “Letter to Harper from Halfway to the Horizon” was published in MockingHeart Review in May 2018. When I wrote it, I had no inkling of what was to come. I knew only that Stephanie L. Harper was truly special and that I looked forward to our daily communiques. We lived 2,000 miles apart! Little did I know that in a few short years we’d come together in Indianapolis (now that was never on my Bingo card!), to build a home, a life, together. I have led a charmed existence. I love this woman!

I LOVE this!!
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Life is full of surprises—little kernels, instances of recognition—some of which, if we’re lucky and willing to accept them, can transform our private little worlds!
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Where would we be if you hadn’t started realizing that “ignoring … attacking hearts …[or that] something ain’t quite right” wasn’t getting either of us any closer to our needs being met?
We did it, my love! I am EXACTLY where I was always meant to be! ILYSM! 💖🥰
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There’s no denying chemistry.
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Chemistry, physics, and mutual nerdiness!
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Always admit more light. Also, I feel like you should really not discount the possibility of the sunburst of doves and/or glittering red azaleas. But that’s just the Magical Realist in me. May you continue that walk to the horizon together in persistent, cantankerous joy!
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Those sunbursts of birds are so magical! Once, a flock of wild turkeys exploded just in front of me. What a sight! And yes, we’re continuing that walk, hand-in-hand, laughing, stumbling, consistently insolent. How else could we live?
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This is a wonderful story. May the chapters keep accumulating. .(k)
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Thanks, Kerfe. Somehow, against the odds, our separate selves became a “we.” I am finally where I am supposed to be.
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The glass that is still a glass – bam, sir.
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Some things are clear to see. Others, not so much.
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Truth. Some things are simply.
As in,
Common sense is not
Sense, commonly is
The fact that there is one is usually more significant than its condition.
Which may be both love and presence
Both good to possess.
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They can be difficult to recognize, but I’ve gotten better at it.
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Pingback: Letter from the Other Side of Halfway | SLHARPERPOETRY
Wonderful prediction! You deserve the love – both of you
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When certain doors pop open, you just have to step through!
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Beautiful and exceedingly poignant!
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Thank you, Betty. I wish more days were available to me, but I cherish what I’ve been given.
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I too wish you had more days available to you, Robert. You have reminded all of us, methinks, to live each day to the fullest.
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I’m so glad that I deliberately chose not to put off doing things until after retirement, like so many people do, particularly now, since my retirement is going to be much briefer than expected. The carpe diem mindset has permeated much of my life. Luck and the willingness to ignore sound advice to follow my dreams have served me well. 😄
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A stunning poem – it’s wonderful that you two found each other!
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I owe so much to poetry!
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Yes indeed!!
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Zeno paradoxical march of half and then half and then half. Thinking of you on my porch, in a way too fine a September 30th.
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It is good to feel your presence, Frank. Let’s share more good days. Thank you.
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Your words give more meaning to life.
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Thank you, Jay. That means a great deal to me.
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