Love is.

Love
Is a soft thing
That creeps in quietly
On feathered feet

And suddenly
Is there at your most requiring moment
A tenderness, a stillness
Covers you.
Silent tears now sweet
Bitterness beaten back
With honeyed hands

A realization of trust
And content steals away
Your dark thoughts and night terrors
Blinds flung open
Walls painted brightly
To reflect the summer sun

You are warm and
Your thoughts are green
with promise. 
What you need
was planted deeply in
A well-watered bed
Of faith and trust
Now bearing a vital fruit

Born in
A pair of understanding eyes
watching you across the room
A pair of strong arms
At your side
Or around your side
When you start to crumble

You are held together
Resurrected of sorts
So in the morning
You put on your shoes
And leave your house
With a little of you left behind
In the gentle wrap of love.

New Ocean

Grief comes in waves
Like so many oceans
Swallowing you and spitting you back out
Forever a miserable Jonah,
Whitewashed skin but black inside.

Like sandpaper on wood
Or so much skin
wearing you away and thin
Till you have no face left to show
Until you begin to loose memory of who you were
And are replaced by the torrent and bleed of loss 

This terrific jungle
A brave new territory
You had never imagined in your worst
Nightmare
and had dreampt of antithesizing
In your wildest imaginings.

Left only with the buzz of a million insects,
The mosquitos of your soul
Feeding off the pool of what is left inside
Propagating

Until your sorrow is
So perfectly complete
Every nerve fiber on end
Agitated, restless in your exhaustion
Waiting for night
And larger beasts.