Rising in Love
Love, as I know it, is always late for the bus.
Love is life’s sweet disaster.
Love is what we do when the brain is
Tired of thought and weak from discipline.
Order and duty are worn parts that
Cause a wobble and shudder in the timing
Of routine, schedule, responsibility.
Off we go like a butterfly caught in a storm.
One sings and shivers with the thrill of nature’s
Ancient drugs in the warm veins of any age,
Turning on lights in a room full of naked strangers.
How painful the legions of perfectly matched
Impossible lovers. One too old; the wrong race;
The wrong place; a departing ship or train;
Married; disturbed; lost dreams; an empty heart;
Poverty; students; the children of war;
Religion; tribal chaos. What human ritual
Or institution holds love higher than the electric bill?
What small percent of heaving hearts remain unbroken
By the requirements of an ordinary life, the need to
Be reasonable, protect the needs and expectations of
The community, family and neighbors who say
There is nothing so trivial and childish as love,
Falling in love, thinking that an animal sensation
Is the proper guide for a serious being.
If we really believed in love we would call it
Rising in love. Bankers receiving a loan application
Would ask the applicant if they are in love.
People in love would be hired, and those not in love
Would be advised that they do not fit in.
John Manimas Medeiros, 5/2012
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