Sun, Salt, Knowing

My heart feels like Saturday morning

Photo by Author

five days it took
to find my bearings
stretched to my limits
in a far-away land
with minutes diluted
into tears tenderised
by mother-host self-hug
parentheses.

unmoored at first
then present, amplified
by the benevolent shush
of intention guiding
rippling steps towards
the secret aim they seek
in forward motion
retrospect.

five days, a thin slice
in lifetimes and perhaps
the moment, looking back,
we’ll say was when
it all began—
when love was felt anew
like tectonic plates
reshuffling to represent

the new world order
you and I contend with

amidst graffiti
that dream up new leadership
in colourful clamouring
by those who’ll save us—
vegans, lesbians—
the space, synchronous,
held open for our exploring
in time unfolded to spring.

five days and love
fills my brain again—
dangerous, addictive,
bent delirious
by the sunshine
of summer in January
yet my heart feels
like Saturday morning

and, wise as I am,
caught up on love’s might
rising like tall waves
threatening to crush
and swallow the feeling,
I walk towards
the proud sea again
—cautious,

self-parented
in distant lands,
I can’t afford
to carry a heart
shattered by another—
and you offer me a lid
for love’s safekeeping
from ego twists :

you don’t have to be
the only one carrying
love’s loaded gifts.

so we preserve our love
from sun, salt,
the pressure of knowing—
and in the darkness
of our hearts, our love
grows fierce and more vast
than you and I
could ever imagine.