I.
I love a man who is not worth my love
What strange comfort to know we have a shared sorrow--
desire that has sickened us curdled into self-loathing
a communal suffering
Connecting our two bodies
our billions of bodies of women
bodies acted upon by men
subject to millennia of grief
Although our worlds are divided by ravines of history, of generations,
of the color of the earth of our childhoods the color of our skin
My friend, my answer to you
is that he is worth it
Treat him gently with your mind
for it is simultaneously illusion and enlightenment
when you are taken undertow by this madness
You see him most clearly now
with the greatest purity
you are privileged to know his true self: a god, a child, perfection
It may become blurred over time—
remote, clouded by distance or by habit
but now it is a throbbing truth, an epiphany, a state of grace
Do not let love diminish you but broaden the heart
let yourself to be consumed—
pained, raw, bloodied
Extend it, offer it up, make a sacrifice
from one beloved to all men
Allow your love for him to transform into a sacredness
an embrace of humanity
II.
There is no place in this life for love.
No room set aside for it no space where it is acceptable.
In this recipe of our daily routine: of working, eating, washing the body
exercising, feeding the child, walking the dog
entertaining ourselves, of weekdays and weekends in polite conversations
the mind has a path it must follow.
Thoughts are planned, feelings laid out in a logical path,
a sidewalk of concrete divided neatly in squares.
And yet this delicate intimacy
this humid desire
this sacred tenderness
as you say, they come up like weeds Weeds that protrude through the cracks –
shunned, shamed, illicit, unintended.
Invasive species, barbarians that have no place in civilized life
that cause disorder, that cannot be discussed that have to be chopped out, forced to wilt back that must be eradicated.
They contain inherent poisons
chemicals that degrade the foundation of the house
that cause our path to crumble
and set us back into wilderness.
Yet, they are true natives—
organic, products of the soil’s richness.
Their roots connect to the depth of the earth
below rock and river
to the pulsing heart
to the cherished center.
