POETRY:  Love Excruciating As It Is

LOVE EXCRUCIATING AS IT IS

In the midst of bomb blast

how can I raise my glass

to praise the Face of the one I love?

No tears nor beads of sweat no anguish

tortures its pure expression its moon

light cast on cornfield equally as on

crash and catastrophic collapse on

bodies below as vulnerable as mine

Horses and grandmothers babies and bystanders

caught in the crush

Whole countries cracked up yet a bee nearby

gets pollen on its legs and buzzes home

Light fills my window same as Kabah wall and

Medina Tomb whose inner galactic glow showers

a ray out on the world that refuses its

healing balm or tortures it to

be what it’s not

My loved one doesn’t need my praise nor even

to be less inscrutable as usual in these

circumstances and still shows the way

So I say “To this One there is no other

(mother brother father sister)

None to claim us but proclaim us as

we proclaim in lifted liquor to our lips

our love excruciating as it is

Yet a feather blown by it

floats in the air

and remains there      


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