A Poem In The Search Of Love

When the sun sets and night starts

to linger in everybody’s backyard,

I wonder at the nature of devotion;

how loving is similar to praying,

both involving the movement of the

tongue. In a world where even trees

lurch to touch the sky, it’s obvious

humans have reverence for things

unattainable. In school when I looked

at a boy a desk ahead, I knew

my dreams were higher than the

length of my own body. And so

I never tried for heaven, for love,

I was happy with good grades and

things my fingers could easily scrape.

For some, it’s impossible to even say

the word love because the tongue

refuses to utter what it has never

known. It is like a fish dying on wet

earth, surrounded by all that air.

When I pray, I pray for the freedom

of love blooming, unrestricted and

unconcerned.