There Can Not Be a Rebirth Without a Death
I rushed to this place of beginnings to trap these words
Before they dissipate into the Sunday dusk.
Love was breathing on me all day, walking side by
side, as I wondered around the roads you carved
Onto the white matter that had not produced one
Memorable story, till God introduced us to each other.
Can I talk to you about loss? I can only mention this
Since finding your picture next to mine on an altar
Revealed the truth of my condition: wounded heart,
Born wanting sweetness not grown in the region
I was reared. The kind of loss not based on a having
or a loosing, but an always, a never, a darkness.
Can I talk to you about loneliness? The type experienced
In the company of others, shared over decades of empty
Gestures and unfulfilled promises, bred in regret,
Hidden behind a smile and the accommodating touch
I learned to demand and receive for no apparent reason
Other than a convenience exchanged in time and space.
Can I talk to you about fear? The suffocating kind, familiar,
Constant. The one deciding that venturing outside isn’t right.
It predicts that around each corner, a darker alley lies. And
When you make a run for it, it blows out the light lighting
The tentative path you long studied and planned, as the way
Leading back to possibilities that feel deserving at times.
Can I talk to you about time? I am becoming its friend—
Recognizing the generous ways it allows the rebirth
Of a fate we believed had been abandoned, left for dead.
Destiny can not be lost in the never-ending circling
Of the minute hand, it is made truth and blessing now,
Never-ending, present-moment shared and realized.
Can I talk to you about love? Just a reminder of sorts:
Each time it opens my heart, out pours patience and grace,
With the kindness and belief that bears all things worthy. Hopeful,
Enduring love, devoid of arrogance or envy. Newly born
Into the eternal space we occupy today. Faithful lovers,
Here to manifest the gods’ perfect creation. Nothing less.