Love has a gentle grace
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth on Mother’s Day

Love has a gentle grace; you have not seen her
unless you’ve looked into your mother’s eyes
and seen her faith
—serene, composed and wise—
that you’re the center of her very being
(as once, indeed, she carried you inside.)

Love has no wilder beauty than the thought
that you’re the best of all she ever sought.

(And if, perhaps, you don’t believe my song,
can your mother be wrong?)

i stay in the past
out of hatred for the present
and fear of the future
inside my mother's cocoon
as my father works day to day
tirelessly, puffing smoke out of chapped lips
and the cigarette boxes pile the hallways
i live in a dream inside my head
where i paint my walls a different shade each day
and flowers bloom between the cold metal frame of my bed
the cracks in the ceiling
and the dusty gaps in my window
as if i had not heard my sister cry in the night
or nights
and my brother slams the door from outside
yes,
i'd rather stay in the past.

I do not knock at death's door,
I dance with him, closely interlaced
We glide across the river of souls
Throughout the night until it bleeds into day.
I do not spin free of his grasp
Nor do I fall from his hands to be laid in the ground.

I cannot fall from his hands for I am chained to life.
I am tasked to live on this earth to fulfill a purpose I am unaware of
One day I will find the reason I live, but not tonight
I dance with death, slowly gliding across the river of souls
I listen to his siren’s sweet songs, the promise of the ending of pain

Yet I hear the cries of the living
They beg me to stay to fulfill my purpose
They say I matter, and they say it will get better
They have faith that it will and offer me support

Their cries are powerful, they cry overpowering the sirens sweet melody
I am chained to living, but know the realness of death
I’ve grown close to death but am still called upon by the living
The chains of living had pulled me from my dance

And after many years of pain and guilt and sorrow I know my purpose
Here I warn others of the siren’s songs.
I warn of the empty promises of death and the deception of our dance.
For I have danced with death but am bound to life

Can a love that began with someone else's sacrifice have a happy ending?

A love secret and unconfessed.
A love so great that even torment is sweet for me