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.
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.
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