Love has a voice. The voice
Issues from darkness, says
“I know you can’t see me, but
Walk toward me. Here I am.”
Young love has the voice of a
Starlet, breathy, and ears perk,
Strain to hear its words and
Accompanying, fluttery lashes.
Mature love’s voice is that of a
Mama cooking in her kitchen:
Chatty, cheerful, confident,
Overcoming tv, kids, pots, pans.
Even shattered love has a voice,
Though no one wants to hear it.
It calls in its quivery, tiny way:
“How could you do this to me?”
If continually silent, love is
Giving up, refusing, departing,
Ending, starving, dying. Or dead.
But there may yet be a little hope.
Each person chooses love, or not.
I, you, can call in darkness, and
Try to initiate a conversation…
Listen for an echo, or a reply.
I wrote this 09/22/09 and posted it, originally, on facebook. I posted it here, tonight, as a reminder to self.