Sunday, February 14, 2010

Honest Love



author’s note:

For Valentine’s Day, I’m revisiting this poem, written two and a half years ago.

I’m still dealing with this dilemma–but still feasting on the green shoots as well.


HONEST LOVE

Why can’t I see love
in those low ruffled hills
that have faded
without turning golden?

Instead I confuse love
with reveries that give
only fog.

Shouldn’t I feel love
when I see the traffic blink
on yonder winding highway--?--

don’t those drivers love
and feed love
just as I do?

I say “love”, I say “love” again,
hoping to convince myself
of what I experience
in every living moment--

I say “love”
in the darkness
as I watch
the streaming flashes
of fireflies.

I say “love”
as I watch a fire
I can never abandon.

I say “love”
as the blue flame rises
over the red--

I see they’re one in the same.

I say “love”...

but I still don’t believe myself.

I can not stop myself
from believing
that love requires I cross
a great chain of mountains--

love lives over there, always over there,
never in the ground
beneath my feet--

over there--in a glowing white cloud
gathered from
the magical invisible spaces

then to disappear
in just a moment’s breeze.

I lower my poor head
to the trickle of a stream.

This honest death is also love--
another small death
at the end
of another stumble day.

I eat the green shoots
of my meditation.
So don’t worry about me--
I am growing.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton
webbed site

Labels: , , , , , ,

2 Comments:

Blogger Goldenrod said...

Michael, love is what love is what love is. You need not 'say' love in order to experience love. This post, "Honest Best", is intriguing to me. I would like to give it some more thought and get back to you later on it, if I may. I like your searching, searching, searching for the right words to express how you feel.

Your posts are 'copyrighted', I guess. Mine are not, nor are my responses. Perhaps they should be?

4:06 PM  
Blogger Michael said...

Goldenrod,
The copyright is an old habit from the days when I put all my work on paper and sent it snail mail.

I'm not just searching for the right words to express how I feel, I'm also searching for how I feel--I just realized that after reading your comment. I often miss the obvious.

8:01 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home