It doesn’t look the way I thought it would,
love.

It doesn’t stand up straight and shine bright in the sun.
It didn’t brazenly throw the doors open and announce itself.

It also didn’t sidle up and catch me unawares,
leaving me gobsmacked and overwhelmed,
aflutter with passion and bereft of sense.

It leaves me breathless at times,
while simultaneously giving me space to breathe.
It is mutable, like water,
finding stillness when possible,
but also creating a feeling of buoyancy.

All the ways I was taught it should look don’t fit.

I’m not driven to lose sleep or write epic poetry in it’s name,
to wring my hands or find ways to name how it makes me feel.
It just is, with such clarity I find myself at a loss to continue this poem.

I find the calm certainty of it
strangely romantic.

 

Today’s song is We have all the time in the world by Hal David and John Barry, best sung by Louis Armstrong