Love

When you tore through my clothes
And took my body in you,
That wasn’t the time love came –
For me, love-making wasn’t new.

Love snuck in with stories
And acceptance and giving;
Grew with knowledge and hope;
And fights, that bring forgiving.

I can live through it all,
Love does not alter for me,
Though it brightens the world,
Or can shatter this galaxy.

If I see you again,
It will flare up, it isn’t proud,
It doesn’t die or unlearn,
For all who love me warn loud.

So I’ll entreat the sky,
And write it all down in verse,
I’ll beg time to be kind –
Maybe make karma reverse.

Okay

Everyday people ask
“How are you?”
And I say,
“I am okay.”
I mention my body.
No broken bones.
No Covid-19.
No cancer.
Intact.

The inside of my heart though,
I wonder if I can talk about it.
Myocardium.
It’s said to be the thickest.
It has to be.
It houses abstractions.
Raw, mind-numbing wounds:
The fear of a future.
The betrayal of promises.
The neglect of hope.
The presence of love.
The sounds of monsoon birds
Silenced by “it’s not you, it’s me”.
Sensitive, burning, bloody
Awe
Of those who move on.

That part –
That part is not okay.
Every breath serrates it.
Like ice on a chipped tooth.
Like wires under nails.

But I can’t say this.
So, everyday,
I say, I am okay.

Shirt Sleeves

Maybe it is in the nature of love
To fall away like autumn leaves;
Yet I wonder before you step out now,
Who helps you roll up your shirt sleeves.

I reckon you can live all by yourself
And you no longer need love’s aid.
When spring whispers in after winter dies,
Maybe then fears shall be unmade.

Now, as the rain falls and memory cries,
I remember enough to mourn,
And, in a darkened corner, my heart tries
To piece back life this love has torn.