I see again what may happen in the worst of times,

even as life draws from the heart

a toxic sludge of pain,

then wounds it with silent

hours choked with loss:

I see this puzzle of a world promises nothing

and turns not for my needs or whims

but it well may for yours and yours,

and everything I need to know I can learn

from you and you.

When not even looking

revelations come out of hiding.

I see through smokey ruins

that love is possible still,

transferred by slinging across chasms

its good swinging bridge–

and made with a smile, a look,

a step forward with no motive

nor burden of demands.

Made of little to fuss over, still it is

as if a radiant dove flew down from heaven

and roosts there in sacred power of

your beautiful open hands,

and so flutters close to me–

because of you, you

my darlings

you