Category: Love

This Is How It Happens

Cherubic and reeking
grief’s pallor heavy
he comes to me

Of course, he does
I am schooled in compassion
seldom flinch at raw pain

I attend to the wounds
listen; reassure
but I am weary

My own sorrow unattended
loss and betrayal an inner bleed
know I have only so much to give

But he is not alone,
there is another
a mere child…

Cherubic and reeking
grief’s pallor heavy
he comes to me

Of course he does
and I will sign on to stay…
schooled in the art of compassion.

(The stories that come to us in the dreamtime, often celebrate anniversaries. Years ago, I was in a cycle of abusive relationships, culminating with the one represented in the poem. We met on New Year’s Eve. My son, then early teens, remarked to me that I always chose relationships that asked a lot of me but seldom gave in return. While I laughed it off in the moment, his words remained with me, especially as this man also betrayed me with another. It was the turning point I needed to do some real soul-searching.)

Image my own.

Love In Aisle Nine

Lust ignores warning signals
fancies itself a savvy consumer
commits minor infractions with
confidence, sidestepping anxiety.

Loneliness, nearsighted, shops
without discernment, fails to
recognize that all life is transient
and patience is the key to harmony.

Love – the main attraction – is not
a lone chauffeur, nor a self-serving
commander, feeding off helplessly
dis-abled hearts bordering insanity

nor is it initiated by determination
a product of drive – brokenness
barreling through hurt’s congestion
misinterpreting openings. The path

to intimacy requires compliance,
obeys service, calms egos, a slow
non-consumer-based passage –
no bargains in the commitment dept.

(Love in Aisle Nine first appeared here in December, 2017. Image is my own.)

Summer Love

Waves lap in rhythm with my heart
midnight sky bewitches, stars sing,
hand-in-hand our spirits soar
pulses dancing to the seduction
of love’s enchantment –

Tonight the ambiance possesses us
tonight boundaries have no hold
we are moon-crazed innocence
warmed by mysterious stirrings
sand shifting beneath naked soles.

(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: bewitched. Image my own.)

Love Lessons

Had a weird sort of lexicon
the man who professed
to be my dad –

Clamped in his chokehold
he’d demand words of devotion

Became inured to this dichotomy –
spent a lifetime searching for love –

Just the right balance of cruelty and kind.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.  Sketch mine.)