The Fist by Derek Walcott The fist clenched round my heart loosens a little, and I gasp brightness; but it tightens again. When have I ever not loved the pain of love? But this has moved past love to mania. This has the strong clench of the madman, this is gripping the ledge of unreason, before plunging howling into the abyss. Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19974#sthash.6JWwe3nj.dpuf