Hard Love

Don’t tell me love is soft.
True love is hard,
full of pain and disappointment,
not for sissies or the easily frightened,
full of twists and turns,
and requires superhuman faith
in something invisible as the wind,
belief
that this thing that has broken your heart
again and again
is not malevolent and mad,
but knows better than you
what is important for your soul to hear.

Only then, is seems,
when you succumb to the madness
and give yourself to it
like a child in a thunderstorm
full of fear and wonder in equal amounts,
only then

does it come to rest,
does it become soft,
does it come
to stay.

About this poem

I needed to write tonight. And my mind was mush, still fighting the crud of the last week. So I went through the pictures of the last week and found this one, snapped at my sister’s house in DC.

“I’ll write something romantic!” I said. And I almost did.

Tom