Poetry & Prose

A Strange Victory

Part I


Love is defined in terms of loss

if we are not lost in love

we are lost without it


A single grain of sand in an hourglass

waiting to fall from now to then,

where we disappear


A pebble in the belly of a whale

in the midst of an endless ocean

that has no name


The feeling of sunshine

from all sides

in the middle of night


The antidote

loneliness breeds darkness,

so we are only lost when alone.


I want to be found.


Part II


Isn’t it funny

god commanded us

love one another


And of all the commandments

this is the one

we break the most


Plato said that

at the touch of love

we all become poets


But if hope is the thing with feathers,

love is the thing with fangs

snapping at my ankles


Isn’t it funny

love unearths our hidden parts

but sometimes I think


I’d rather be buried alive.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *