Love is a four letter word

And so is rant. Draw your own conclusions.

~0~

If you came to me, as an oracle
seeking answers about the truth that is love,
I could not give you them.

For though I love, passionately and unreservedly with
my whole being and soul, I cannot
answer as to why, or how, or any
of another thousand million questions.

I love my love in roses, through overcast days when
those little storms shake the boundaries, hide the sun
and thorns scratch us both.

I love my love with abandon, even during those times
when I would cheerfully hit him over the head
with a very large shovel, or yell or scream, or
hop plates against the wall, or pack and simply
walk away.

I love my love up to the armpits in dirty dishes, during the
old and tired rituals of after-work, the worn and rusty conversations
of day in, day out, day in again.

I love my love in the quiet times, when Hollywood weaves
its magic to tell me that no, it is not love unless
there is loss, there is pain, there is passion that serves
to destroy nations and end lives.

Sometimes I believe them.

I have frittered away centuries, searching for that
bright and flaming spark that at the beginning we
cupped in our joined hands.
I have been desperately afraid that its loss would
signal the end of all that lay between.

Only to find, banked in the comfort glow of our fireplace,
embers that glow brighter than any spark, when we wake them,
give birth to flames that light our nights, our way
to each other's arms.

I love my love, even though I know that it's not
perfect, that neither he nor I can ever promise
not to hurt each other, be irritated, annoyed, upset, infuriated,
or any one of another million and three emotions.

For though he knows my flaws, my faults, my weaknesses and insecurities,
my foibles, my follies, my petty little habits, my fears,
he also knows the beauty in me that I dare not acknowledge, and he
loves me for it all.

I love my love, and am aware of my luck, but also
the paths I walked down to wake to my truths.
I cannot say the journey was easy.

So do not come to me, as an oracle
seeking answers about the truth that is love,
they are not mine to give.

But come to me as a sanctuary,
for I offer you silence,
to listen and comfort and ease.

28/8/2002