— Anonymous
Love is Love
After reading many different types of literature, I found most connected to “A Carcass” by Charles Baudelaire. Even though the poem talked about a rotted dead body throughout the whole text, but somehow, I found out the poem itself might be talking about love. At the beginning of the poem, Charles started to recall of seeing a dead body with his lover. The corpse is terrifying, with “flies, maggots, and a dog waiting for the moment to take back from the carcass”. All those descriptions indicated that how bad and disgusting the corpse is. It defiantly doesn’t look like a love poem to me in the beginning. But when I kept reading to the end and found out that “Then, O my beauty! say to the worms…That I have kept the form…decomposed love!” and I found out the “love” that has been told in this poem. The things I love eventually will become a carcass someday, the physical body might be already gone, but love is eternal. Love is not built on physical appearance, nor substances. The real love is spiritual, it’s eternal. The carcass in the poem represented death, and nobody can stop him from collecting over loved one’s life. But, one thing the death can’t stop is people’s feelings and love and nothing in the world can stop people from loving each other. My mom used to have a very good friend, and I knew her since I was little, and I called her “the real mom”. When my mom was busy, she always takes me to her home and takes care of me; she was just like my second mom. I was even closer to her than that of my father (because they got divorced when I was little). Later, my mom decided to take me to the U.S. and that’s when I started to live in an environment without her. I missed her so much, even I was in the U.S, I still having facetime with her every week, sharing my life with her; and hoped to visit her during summer vacation. Everything was planned well until I received a phone call at 3 am. Another friend of my mom reached me and wanted me to tell my mom that “the real mom” passed away. I was shocked and for a long time that I don’t even think my brain worked. I started to cry and doesn’t know what to do, and for a real long time, I don’t even want to believe it. For almost two months, I kept dreaming about her. In the dream, she came to me and smiled, saying the death is only a joke. And I woke up, for a moment, I can’t distinguish which one is real—the death, or the joke. Finally, I started to accept the truth, and I started to visit her in the cemetery. I kept all the things that she gave to me in a box just like I kept the best memory of her in my mind. Death can’t cut off people’s love, I love her just like before and even more. I feel connected to this poem is that I feel the same love just like Charles expressed in the poem. Love is love, it is a feeling which can’t be destroyed by death and love is eternal.
