Love’s Complexity.

As a child, I felt crestfallen seeing
A film on a lioness a woman tames;
It needed a graver understanding
Of how love chooses to play its mean games.
Today I saw a similar story:
How a boy watches, broken-heartedly,
His pet, in whom he fostered love’s glory,
For its own safety, swimming back to sea.
It is thus I guess that it is to be:
Despite the pain and to its core be true,
There comes a time to just stand back and see
If pulling back gets me closer to you.
Love surely has its own complexity:
To get it all, one has to set it free.

The Bird and Her Egg.

The drops splash atop sleeping leaves,
Like beats measuring song;
The grey sky its burden relieves
And the rain falls for long.

A bird’s laid an egg in mom’s flowers;
She thinks it’s safe and well;
The poor thing doesn’t know it’s just hours
Before it’s reduced to a shell.

The frightened eyes are red and bright,
Unblinking, full of fear;
But instinctual love gives it might,
It moves not though I’m near.

My dog sees it and pounces fast
I restrain her, the bird flies!
Its own survival wins at last:
Love leaves, life’s lost, hope dies.

The grey sky turns dark as the trees,
The rain drops aren’t as strong,
They splash still atop sleeping leaves,
With beats of a new song.