Who knows how to unmake love?
that fertile ground for growing
goodness
in tiny cracks between beings.
Passionate demands attention, but draws reluctant admiration
for his gymnastic stamina and
singularity of focus –
a laser light later scattered in time’s gauze.
Oh so cute I could pinch the cheeks of this Puppy she says 40 Years Married now.
Others applaud politely if not quite aspiring to such
longevity.
Unrequited garners the requisite sympathy.
Fearing the recollection in his reflection,
they remark so sad to one another not him.
Getting better, he gamely proclaims if asked his status.
Of Country sometimes sings at wrong moments.
In his chest beat two mindhearts, one humbleproud, the other not so.
Familial says leave it alone it’s complicated,
but none of us can quite completely ever; let’s get real, people.
But, how can BOTH unwant you? asks Unrequited of Unwanted
trying to be sincere, sympathetic.
Impossible. and yet here I am, she answers.
no more able to explain her creation or illogical persistence than any other.
Is it sad? Are you?
I think not. No.
We Love are performers in this passion play, pinacles of
perfection, the
apotheosis of achievement, speaking poetically I mean.
And so the slender tender shoots that sprang in that space
and unfurled under unfriendly spotlight –
dangerously acknowledged if ever. and deeply unwanted
speak not of them please –
remain unwithered, wonderous, a blessing to behold,
even if without peer or purpose.
Perhaps then especially.
Friendship mends the cracks in the world.
Who knows how to unmake love?
Or even knowing would?