The Country Of Marriage (And Love)
' There are no unsacred places,
only sacred places, and desecrated places '
- Wendell Berry
In the country where arose
the soft grasses bearing your name
in their blooming stalks, I imagined
myself walking into the heart of
the yellow cover crop, bare.
Flitting by, a songbird was your spirit
Its chirping breaking the soft lull of
wind through your hair, dancing with
purple specks of tiny flowers barely known of;
their mystery that of you ascending in
my sleep. I didn't know of you fully in my
waking, but knew the tenderness of you in
my softened steps through the hottest field
in summer when the grass was high and
bent over in homage to its maturity.
Sometimes, I hold you in memory this way:
As an orchard, a house and a garden which
are always present and never leave.
I remember the colors of the flowers
like the words which bind our sacrament
each to the other.
The level ground assured me I was
sure in you and led me forward to
comfortable shades at midday
and sheltered places at night.
Our bravery kept us going even
through life's storms.
I have trusted you as the gentle forest
is trusted by the woodland creatures
whom live their whole lives under it.
The planting of us was no guarantee,
yet I, as a farmer knew it was guaranteed
and well prepared for. I knew the crop
return was to be a grand reward of the
wild land reclaiming itself after being razed.
I knew our land would absorb all rains
and so would we absorb the unknowns,
the whys of how we came together
When we drank from the well,
there was too much to not be filled;
our love overflowed and was a
never ending source of resurrection.
Like the wild fields, we embraced the
right season for our plants to bear fruit.
I never felt worthy of you but simply was
inclined to surrender and that letting go
was a blessed thing that seemed to need
no understanding to thrive, as great Sequoias
need no reason to live as long as they are
inclined to. I have sunk into you as
ancient humus into soil under a canopy
of trees. I am a hidden joy that you
discover lifting your branches and
feeding your roots.
I gave you all this that I have,
which is little, but enough to satisfy
each cycle of our lives and dissolve
its own logic into a zero sum;
its economy is its beauty.
It has no fair market value and one day will
simply return unnoticed like a crop of weeds
which delight only butterflies and bees;
it will return to itself, folding in upon its
very creation and becoming its own
origin, its own soil mold becoming it's
own food for its seeds to grow from.
It will be known simply as a love that was,
and is, and lives on eternally.
As poetry, my words as humble as anyone's
will sing with us and our purpose to simply
be and be satisfied. My unbounded self
is waiting always at your door to be greeted
and invited in to share your hearth.
I will wander but never leave, as a horse
which always needs hay and water
and gallops in circles around its barn.
In the dark of night, I know you are there,
Death's smile is your smile and to you
will I return at my end. All things created
in love return to what bore them and will
unconditionally receive them.
The soil does not discriminate.
My love for you is organic and
biodegradable and so are you
most sacred in receiving it.
(a non-entry in ' The Simple Life')