Some poetry for a Sunday -- a beautiful one, especially the last stanza: And when two people have loved each other/see how it is like a/scar between their bodies,/stronger, darker, and proud;
For What Binds Us
by Jane Hirschfield
There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down—
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.
And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
(Read the whole lovely thing here, at The Writer's Almanac.)