This used to be my favorite poem. Scratch that, still one of my favorite poems. I don't know what it means to me... I just know that I love it. Maybe it's because I always feel so nostalgic and regretful when I think of all the wonderful people that have come and gone from my life that I have lost touch with throughout the years. Maybe it's because I love people watching and making up stories about them. Maybe it's because I love the feeling of deja vu and this poem reminds me of that. Whatevs. I love it, enjoy it.
To A STRANGER
by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
- PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
- You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
- I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
- All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
- You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
- I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
- You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
- I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
- I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
- I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
