A poem by Michael Graber

There is no right way
to read the silence created
after our eyes collide.

Each definition holds
true – yet defining
filters out connections

we cannot deny when sleep
won’t come. You are more
than the ability to accept.

bird hovering

Come. Go. Call. Renounce.
Love knows no distance
and melts with glacial

patience. My father, drunk
in Heaven, knows your name.
My mother compares my wives

to you. Generations will sing
about this sacred expression,
this song and all the others

that hit the heart where it
makes nectar. Why wall up
the garden when it is not

a garden? What grows
in this rainforest has the seeds
to rebirth the planet. Why

define love with convention
when each interpretation
holds only one piece

of life’s infinite patchwork?
The only thing self-evident pivots
between desire and acceptance.

Poem by Michael Graber

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