We all say the same thing: It’s a flash
and slug.
You can’t wrap up time in a pink box
and raise it high in definition. You can’t seal
an envelope with a slow, deliberate lick –
explain the work and love, hate and despair
of four years.
What do you say to two shining faces
that’s honest, loving, real?
Sometimes, I would forsake all the settledness
I’ve uncovered in these two stretched years
for one day surrounded by the me and yous
of that place.
Ponds are dark even when they’re shallow.
The paths around them hold every word
whispered, shouted, proclaimed
until you wonder if the very gravel
has ears.
So I tell them: Sometimes, I would forsake
all the settledness I’ve uncovered.
Mostly, though, I look with gentleness
at those long-tough times, and I praise God
for not giving me the choice.
