Absorbed by the political revolutions of the past weeks, I neglected to share a poem about the revolution of the heart that we celebrate each February. Here, for your enjoyment, is one that birthed a few days ago.
If I could stand outside our love
and choose her once again,
my feet afloat on air,
each heartbeat pounding at her door,
If I could sense again the risk,
the fear,
the awe at future’s frown,
the smile of hope’s surprise,
and plunge past precipice of hope,
My hands would feel
with me in falling
hers
in freshened air of faithfulness.
Red Clay, Blood River
That’s the romantic Bill I remember. Very touching. Thanks for sharing.
Tim B