What is called Love
by Rob Schmidt
Rushing
The moment before I fall from a great height
chest burning from unfamiliar sensation
My body melts into a puddle
two eyes
the only remaining organs
staring upwards hopelessly at the receding
object of attachment
People call it Love.
Fighting for possession
clambering over the bodies obstructing my path
arms reaching out, hands grasping
Nothing
less than nothing, because I find in my hand
only a dead piece of myself
People call it Love.
Tenderness thwarted
transmutes into tearing talons
I can’t get you out of my mind
until I control every manifestation
you have ever created
People call it Love.
My heat burns us both
I tell myself I give you a gift
the gift that keeps on grasping
snapping and biting
Burning
the flame engulfs me like a halo
consumes me
until, weak and heavy, I touch myself
and explode
alone
People call it Love.
I cry for what I cannot have
for what is not given to me
as I push it away
seeing only it
never what I am doing
what I am creating
what I am denying
People call it Love.
The ache dulls
pain ebbs slowly
lonely moments in the night grow fewer
I think of other things
or think anger
but a little softer each time
People call it the fading of love.
One day a stranger offers a balloon full of color
innocently
My mother smiles upon me with unalloyed joy.
I realize love is a gift
I give and am given
Satisfying
Without expectation of satisfaction
Without promise of a future at all.
Giving
because there is nothing to take
nothing to hold
It spreads from my outstretched, open hand
unseen by eyes
caressing me and him
her and me
every blessed thing in Creation.
It is deathless
unborn
I participate in its propagation
The wave of infinite amplitude
I ride the peaks of exhilaration
I shelter in the ample, gentle troughs
My talons shrink to fingers
I give and am given
I feel and am felt
The urge to grasp arises
stark metallic hardness
framed in folds of felt
I love it
metal softens
I love it
hardness yields
I love it
breathe it in
its vapors bear soft fragrant gifts to my cells.
Love nourishes
nourishes Love
I love
love me
Hardest of all, simplest of all, best of all
I call it Love.