Beloved

Eyes moist with tears and a heart pained through longing.

Footprints mark the lands; trodden bare foot. Throats parched with thirst, hands risen in hope; the sweetness of the struggle dancing on dry lips.

The seeking of the Beloved, is the path to the meeting; yearning through a desire.

A love, only eternal.

Separation from the beloved is not possible.
Lovers don’t just meet. Their within each other all along.

SHE: On Love

SHE

She, never taught me On Love.

She, working her fingers to the bone each day,

rubbing her feet at night, alone, in the dark,

crying, aching, bruised and estranged.

She, never taught me On Love.

How could SHE?

She, who was sacrificing her rights, each and every day,

never allowed to feel the real beauty of her own laugh, 

She, never taught me On Love.

But really, how could SHE?

Never knowing herself, who to ask.

She, never asking, never questioning, always believing, always, it’s a Farce!

SHE – who never taught me On Love,

still struggling each day, still crying, alone, in the dark.

I tried telling her,

“Listen! Swollen ankles cannot be worked with broken hands.”

But Still. 

She, She never taught me On Love.
“No Stop! Listen, how could I really?”

 SHE, she said, never taught me On Love.

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