One of the miracles is that there is always something new
You are, it seems, a moving target, a spirit
that rises and falls and rises again,
a kaleidoscope, never the same long enough
to settle and be safe. And yet here you are,
with a God and a woman and children steadfast
in their love of your ripples and changing landscape.
I cannot pretend to be anything
but fortunate, even now in the age of quarantine
and hate, love wins.
About this poem
I look back sometimes. Not in self-recrimination, but in wonderment. There are underpinnings of who I am, but so much that changes at the same time. To those of you who have been my friends through the whole journey, or even parts of it, I am grateful. I am most grateful for the woman I love, and the children I celebrate. Unless you have made our journey, you cannot possibly understand how grateful.
PS: The picture was taken in Rome.