A Poet’s Resurrection

Summary

Leonard Laconte's life and perspective on love are poetically memorialized, reflecting on the complexities, impermanence, and rewards of love, and the personal journey of understanding and expressing it through writing.

Abstract

Leonard Laconte, a man whose life was deeply intertwined with the many facets of love, is honored in this tribute. His experiences with love were multifaceted, often leading to a range of emotions from joy to sorrow. He articulated his understanding of love through various mediums, acknowledging that there is no singular way to love. Love, as he saw it, was transient and unpredictable, something to be embraced when it arrives and mourned when it departs. Despite his premature departure from life, Laconte's legacy is encapsulated in his writings, which were not scientific treatises but personal reflections aimed at exploring love's depths. His journey with love was imperfect, yet he found beauty in its imperfections, even in his struggles with addiction. His words serve as a testament to his desire to love more deeply and his recognition of love's presence in everyday moments.

Opinions

Love is inherently flawed and complex, capable of causing both joy and pain.
There is no perfect or instructive way to love; it is a personal and individual experience.
Love's transient nature is acknowledged; it can be found and lost within the span of a week.
The act of loving is seen as inherently valuable, with the author emphasizing the importance of being open to love.
Laconte's writing was a personal quest to understand and express love, rather than an attempt to explain it scientifically.
Despite life's limitations and the approach of death, there is a celebration of love's enduring impact and the hope for new beginnings.
The author suggests that even in moments of despair, such as witnessing a loved one's disappointment, there is a desire to hold onto love.
Laconte's life and work are presented as a journey, with his words serving as a guide for others navigating the complexities of love.

My tribute to a man called Leonard Laconte

He learned about love from the many ways he saw, heard, received, and gave it. It sometimes left frowns, mutterings, despairs, cries, inflexibility, because love is prone to crack.

He wrote about love on the peaks of paragraphs, hidden in sentences, chalked on paving, drawn in the sand, carved on trees, and with lyrics sung. There is no perfect way to love, no instructions save those we make for ourselves.

Love comes, goes, is found on a Monday, lost on Sunday, celebrated then grieved over. It waits in spring to have fun with you, hiding behind hills lush as bed pillows.

There is no reward in not loving. What effort does it take to believe? Some choose to search on faraway shores, others in the local grocery store. Be open to love coming, like morning, and sparrows tweeting.

He never became an old man. He left behind so many places he hoped to see, many experiences he should have felt, opportunities he really couldn’t afford to miss, but the years were passing, and time was short.

He wrote not as a scientist, looking for an explanation, but a man wishing to love more than he did. He alone knew the truth, all the things left out, cast aside in winter, recalled in spring, hurtling toward summer, exhausted.

He never felt a need to demonstrate courage or need a reason to do something right. He wasn’t perfect, not close. His words were not a definitive roadmap but a journey into the next life…or as far as Wednesday.

Even as an addict, he recognized an angel of love walking on the street, sad and disappointed. He said to her, I want to understand. She shrugged her shoulders. Even so, he made her promise she would never leave him.

When the lightning came, a gleaming flash, over the roof and into the trees, he went screaming and kicking. His eyes flaming, blood singing, sipping the last dregs of wine before putting his coat on and wandering off into the night.

Against a fall of snow, the child will not recall the whistling of death, being born beautiful. His heart will beat, he will grow tall, time will become short, and he will learn the distance of love and loving all over again.