This is not Death; This is no Dream

 Yesterday’s love is like a fallow field,
Where green has turned to gold, then brown.
Tomorrow’s love is more a cloud of dreams,
Maze of nerves impossible to hold or kiss.
 
I want the living space between start and finish…
An after birth breathing and real, fiery and mad….
Sad and anything but absent in my empty heart.
Give me a hand, a key, a clue, a message to read.
 
Show me the tender beast you keep within your heart,
Less terrible than tomb of past that haunts.
We will find the overhanging trees that offer shelter,
Sit on nature’s breast, fly upon bird’s feathered crest.
 
Joy will float upon the light, and if in dark of night
Sorrow comes, we will hold each other tight,
Refute the sting that hangs by breadth of hair,
Explore interior of fear until new morning comes aware.
 
This is not death, no dream…. this standing on the head….
Not hard as stone, but born of blood and water and hope,
Hearts open, where we see each other and are seen,
Hold alive within our lives no less love than God.

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