The woman of my dreams has moved into
a silent orbit, traversing past
my place, to and from work,
I imagine, with her pain riding
alongside—orbiting me and my pain—
so here we go missing each other
and confronting our lost ideals.
There is no telling how love manifests;
doors open and you have to walk through.
Holes open and you simply fall in...
or you orbit, circling around the gravity
of the other person's heart—
suspended in hope and disbelief
as bad images fill the empty void.
Real love resides in the ability to heal.
Patience, the fertilizer of love, holds us;
we do well to slow down, consider...
Those bad images are fear speaking.
It is the work of lovers to confront fear,
to demand evidence, to believe only
what is real; we must not succumb
to the fear that would otherwise destroy.
You are not what I fear; I am not
what you fear. We are the tangible participants
in a love dance; the healing is in the steps
we take, the rhythm of the music,
your hand in mine. Each step is a new world
where fear dissipates and love flourishes.
Anthony SignorelliThis poem is from my little chapbook of love poems, The Arc of Love. I hope you enjoy.
A lovely poem. Well said.