---

 

∴

how have you forgotten
how much I love you?

 

did you listen to the wise men
debate
for so long
that you fell asleep
beneath the table of their discourse
and dreamed at their feet,
slumber-waiting
for proof?

 

did you spend too long in the fields
and think the beauty of creation
was the only thing
to remember me by?

as if I had left your side?

 

did you start believing
that all that Love
trying to burst its way out of your chest
and into the world
was a foolish remnant of your childhood,
unable to learn its lesson
and conform
to the real world?

 

did you forget who put it there?

did you forget who puts it there, still?

 

 

worlds without end,
I
have not forgotten you.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

 

∴

it was in the water
that rose from formless sea,

 

it was in the bark
that covered
and peeled
from tender, green limbs.

 

it was in the beast
that ripped at flesh’s
tender seal,

and in the prey
who prayed
as it passed.

 

it was in the babe
who howled with new breath
and in the quiet breast
that nursed him.

 

it was in the dirt
that broke with spring
in smell and thanksgiving.

 

it was in the heart
upon which i laid my palm
and felt
beating.

beating.

 

that

Love

finds a home
in it all.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

finding you

is searching through milky veils

of all the time

in history

and back through black space

and grey waters

and little halos of light

that lace

through undulating cloud.

 

it is that vague

and blinking.

 

but i know –

i still know –

 

despite

your clandestine dance

and slow, whale-like submersions

 

into the deep,

that you are there,

 

and findable.

∴

 

 

---

---

 

∴

 

i would,

but

i never thought myself
so big,

to be so brave,
to be so me.

 

i would,

but

i can’t be so sure
that what i know
i know
is true.

 

i would,

but

you all seem so much wiser
in these matters.

 

i would,

but for fear.

 

i would,

but what would happen if i did?

 

i would,

but

it might hurt,
to live life so fully and sane.

 

i would,

i would,

i will.

 

i could;

i wait

until.

 

∴

 

 

 

---

 

---

∴

we come nearer to the test,
my love.

like a cliff’s edge to stroll on
do the days erode
into the end of time.

 

i have come so far –

 

my luggage shows its wear –

 

buckling wheels
and broken axels,
bits of mistakes and gravel,
ball bearing
in the hinge.

 

i shall carry no mission
within.

such a one
is too heavy for the strap.

 

a body must go lightly
into such decisive days,

and with clear mind
and lighter heart,

 

press into cliff-drawn courses
with a better balance
than before.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

i went back
and up memory’s
familiar winding stairs

to retrieve
the heart
i had left
there.

 

and it sat
like lead
in my palm.

 

lost was the water
moving neath crystal,
like waves winking
under the glass of
frozen
ponds.

 

lost was the silver
like stars.

 

i protest
and i argue

where is there justice in this?

 

that dull should be
such a precious beauty –

so to the One
i must bring it.

 

and will that
lover
mend?

 

restore.

restore me.

 

two
is too
lonely

a number.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

how will i rise
to this occasion

with so much weight,

like rocks
added to the pockets
of wet robes,

that i drop in.

 

i

drop

in

all that expectation
of professionalism
and “goodness.”

 

just take it off.

take it off.

just.

 

for the flesh –
pink and raw and fresh –
is still young
and breathes
as ever it did
beneath.

 

costumes,

bolders,

banners,

and brawn,

we wear them,
with pride and endurance.

 

but stripped of this
and you shall find
a garment
most effortlessly worn –

 

real and ruddy
we may go;

a new life

bared and born.

∴

 

 

---

 

∴

 

light a candle in the window,
for i am coming home.

 

there was a road –
a winding road –
that forgot the place to me.

and on it there were dangers
treacherous and fine,
and treasures there
that though i’d find,
they never would be mine.

and on it was a bridge
that washed and washed with water,
almost my memory;
and took all but the seeds
of what you are to me.

and on it strode my searching feet
with grace
on blistered soul,

stepping into days
and years
till my past
was story told.

 

light a candle in the window,
for i am coming home.

 

i have caught the scent
of laden hearth
and ancient embers glowing.

i have caught it on the autumn wind;
it blows me toward my going,

 

my pace quickens
as i recall

 

the heart
that lives

that lives
inside it all.

 

∴

 

 

 

---

---

∴

what did we think love would do?

keep us safe?

somehow protect us
from what the world would dare?

 

we are young
who think love
such a saccharine thing.

 

for when it comes,

it comes like a knife
against the parts of you
that must be cut away,

and heats
like the blacksmith’s forge
to fuse and fold,
to weld and mold,
the parts
that must be bounded and bridged.

 

like knives and fire,
love should be handled
with care.

 

what other thing is there
in the world
that can expand the soul
to such incorporate width

that all the good,

and true,

and beautiful,

can be held by these stretched boundaries

and known?

against all the tidiness and borders
of nations and homes?

 

what a dangerous thing,
indeed.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

to take comfort
is to take against time

for it is in the speechless
and still embrace
between lovers
that aging ceases,
and clocks stop,
and rain drips into oceans
where it is lost,
and uncounted.

 

to take comfort
is to take against space

and therein,
though briefly,
lose track
of our measurements,
and grow
to the size of our souls.

 

to take comfort
is to keep something
locked like memory
and scent
in a deep
and small place
within.

∴

 

 

---