October 21, 2016 § Leave a comment
Give me love like an anchor in the storm of my mind
a resting-place to return.
Give me love like a harbor,
the stone walls of a home,
solid and windowed and rooted below.
I fly, my loves; I soar.
This bird was not made for a gilded cage.
Give me love like the sky that can hold my whole wonder
an endless expanse to explore.
Give me love like the thermals
joy of flight, soaring height
discovering all we might learn.
I hunt, my friends; I strike.
This hawk takes no hood, just the glove.
Give me love like the pyre when my feathers have dulled
a passion intense and white-hot.
Give me love like a crucible
heat under pressure
to ignite, to renew, to transform.
I burn, my beloveds; I ache.
This phoenix requires the sun and the flame.