I woke early for me, before it was fully light, which allowed me to peacefully creep into the day once I had fed the cat collective. I read while I drink the first cup of tea of the day (green, with lemon, and a sugar/stevia sweetener to try and curb my sugar habit). I don’t know what I will write. But I am not an immediately wide awake riser. I slowly surface, like those divers who used to have to ascend metre by metre, so they didn’t get a bad case of the bends. I browse emails, social media, or a real book in hand. Whatever takes my fancy. What prompted today’s poem came from a stray line in a Brain Pickings email – no heart goes unplundered. That sentence was the trigger.
Surprising myself, I decided to bash away at another sonnet. Love and grief and sonnets cluster together nicely. There are so many kinds of love and loving, yet the essentials always remain true no matter what form it takes.
Love is not an object ordinary,
being subject to laws of physics.
Love is beyond chemistry, godlessly
opposed, lawless, crossing demographics,
moving nanoseconds faster than light.
Love has presence that will always pervade
absence. Grief will take us to darkest night.
Love will raise us upright and unbetrayed.
Even when we only have its perfume,
someone’s scent on sweater worn, though fading,
wraps its wooly memory, restoring bloom –
stem erect and poised for flower.
Resilience is love’s gift and power.
Copyright © Bee Smith 2018
Featured Image By Hu Totya – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1222063