pity can scar

I kissed you in the dead of dark, 

And no one knew, or wished to know, 

You bore across your face, a mark 

From birth, those shattered years ago. 

Now I can never keep in mind 

The memory of your ugliness 

At a clear moment. Now my blind 

Fingers alone can read your face. 

 

Often enough I had seen that slash 

Of fire you quickly hid in shame; 

You flung your scarf across the flesh, 

And turned away, and said my name. 

Thus I remember, daylight and 

The scar that made me pity you. 

God damn them both, you understand. 

Pity can scar love's face, I know. 

 

I loved your face because your face 

Was broken. When my hands were heavy, 

You kissed me only in a darkness 

To make me daydream you were lovely. 

All the lovely emptiness 

On earth is easy enough to find. 

You had no right to turn your face 

From me. Only the truth is kind. 

I cannot dream of you by night. 

I half-remember what you were. 

And I remember the cold daylight, 

And pity your disgusting scar 

As any light-eyed fool could pity, 

Who sees you walking down the street. 

I lose your stark essential beauty, 

I dream some face I read about. 

If I were given a blind god's power 

To turn your daylight on again, 

I would not raise you smooth and pure: 

I would bare to heaven your uncommon pain, 

Your scar I had a right to hold, 

To look on, for the pain was yours, 

Now you are dead, and I grow old, 

And the doves cackle out of doors, 

And lovers, flicking on the lights, 

Turn to behold each lovely other. 

Let them remember fair delights. 

How can I ever love another? 

You had no right to banish me 

From that scarred truth of wretchedness, 

Your face, that I shall never see 

Again, though I search every place. 

[James Wright {1927-1980} 'The Accusation', from Collected Poems]