Excerpt from Poem Ended by Death, Fleur Adcock.
To Pumice: To rub, or scrape smooth. To clean.
To grab a piece of pumice stone, pumice stone formed by hardened, molten lava; and scrape off the outer layers of your skin. In this case rather, to scrape another being off of yourself. To scrape off the memories, the tears, the moments and the experiences. To wash yourself free from love, ridding yourself of it and pieces of yourself as well.
I regret to tell you, Fleur Adcock, that you had it wrong. You and all the writers before you. The painters and the poets. The girls who cut their hair after a break-up. The guys who gym to exercise a woman from their bodies. All of you have it wrong. Nothing you do to your body can rid yourself of love. No amount of scraping and bleeding can assist. Reason being that love, does not exist in your body. Love exists in your spirit and your soul. That is why a marriage, or a christian marriage, is a union of two souls before God. and that is also why; no amount of physicality's, no signature on a piece of paper can sever that bond.
You have to rip your souls apart. You have to tear the entity from your being. Like the overused, cliched image of the heart breaking in half, you too must break in half. And you must return the pieces that aren't yours to their rightful owners, and pick up the pieces that belong to you, and let them heal.
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