Tears dropped in the wilderness clear a space for the fertile craving to return home. Not much changes from year to year; perhaps the peace of some small movement into what used to be a dark space surprises us. We ask, What was that all about? A time for suffering to mark all suffering in the desert? Our gifts create temptation and there is a difference between being loved and loving and looking at a loved one standing beyond the bright surrounding sunlight.
I said, "I have decided to give my life the title 'Extreme Experiments.'" She said, "Funny, I don't consider myself extreme or experimental." I said, "But you have given me the possibility to recognize a grander perspective." She smiled. "Two people. Peculiar lives. Some shared space and time spent in each other's arms makes all the difference." I smiled, too. "I had no idea this conversation was going to turn into a love letter." She said, "As one brilliant mind wrote, 'We complex people cannot retreat to blockish simplicities.'"
To dad I really Love you. xoxoxoxoxo xoxoxo. I think you are the best dad for me. I hope you had fun at Chicago. and thank you for getting this note book for me & cori. I like it very much. Love your Baby Sydney
Lover of all, who sends the rain and the sun and the shine of the stars and the bears out of the woods, define "love" or "Love"; for some would consider a mauling a "loving" act for wanton name-calling against your anointed prophet and others, horrified, denounce your creation crying, There is no love. Amen.
to lean back against the one i love and feel weariness and worries soften into wonder to lower the volume of my own heart's hate and breathe into the questions to see that all things have two temperatures to apologize for callousness aimed at sounds of rejoicing different from those I make to forgive to allow flourishing
Rememberer, who writes with a finger of fire on our forgetful hearts, do not depart from us when we no longer look back on the days that are surely coming, for we cannot see what is written there on the hearts of others and, confused, continue to confound remorseful contrition with wounding indifference. Amen.
I said, "It's been a while since people talked." She said, "The focus on the wrath that comes overwhelms." Thinking aloud, I asked, "How is one supposed to navigate the openings to unopened letters?" She answered, "Salutations matter little when the world selfies itself on vacation." "Ha," I said, "no wonder scripture turns into garbage." She smiled. "Always preaching to the silent choir where love already abounds in songs."
Washing dishes I hear the piano - or - is it the sound of vibrating strings, - or - the meeting of felt and wound steel? From the tenderness of notes - it must be - the slight pressing of your fingertips on ivory. - Those same fingertips - - curled - - resting - - on my chest - an hour ago before you awoke.
"Take your time with the one you love while avoiding the sucking rush of the vacuumer of souls. For Death is the only one who waits at the end of that vicious pull." She said, "There you go again. Turning a romcom into a tragedy." I paused and said, "The only good thing to come out of constantly being disappointed is becoming good at assuaging the disappointment in others." She said, patting the cushion, "Come. Sit back down. Here. Next to me." I said, "The world is full of roles and a role is but a gesture in time." She said, "Some say love is like a rose. Leave your thorns in the kitchen. Petal me."