The greatest gift of all is to bear the pain
of your loved ones wihtout breaking and
as frightening might be that pain will make
you feel stronger to stand for them and
selflessly grant them comfort.

On an Inscription from Katya to Gary
in a Pushkin Anthology Found in a Used-Book Sale

Whatever happened to Katya and Gary?
Their names appear in an anthology
Of Pushkin in a nifty Everyman
Astray on a table of orphaned books

One hopes they read those sweet words each to each
Over Blue Mountain in a coffee shop
Forgetting to feed the parking meter
While planning lives of meaning, deep and rich

Or is each but a memory to the other -
Whatever happened to Katya and Gary?

As he gazed on my face
I saw waves of emotion
rise and crash
in his deep almond eyes
and I became a river
hurtling down to join
the mighty current

When he whispered to me
honeyed words of passion
in the enormity of silence
I blossomed
into
a red tulip of love

As he played on the strings
of my heart’s violin
I got tuned
into an alluring symphony

When he held my palms
I evolved into
a beautiful painting
on a blank canvas

When he cupped my face
to stamp on my lips
the seal of love
I became
a flitting butterfly

When he lifted me up
in his arms
all the stars came down
to see the spark in my eyes
wondering if it outdid
their combined lustre

suddenly I see how simple life is as
mama cat plays with a cricket
on the cold tile floor
flipping him over when he holds still
studying his every move
having a ball terrorizing this poor thing
but she cares for her brood with
unerring courage chasing the pit bull away
yelping as her sharp talons
taught him
to not get so curious
she eventually left
one leg left on the tile
and lost interest
went back to her babes so cute
and nursed them like a soft angel

the pit bull no longer ventures past the curtain
in the hall
and I haven't seen a cricket
since going to Annie's market
across the street where
they charge money for them


I was too late taking that cricket outside away
from her viciousness
she did what nature told her to do
I guess

There is the emotion
Towards one's god
The one to be worshipped
Overwhelming
All consuming
We call it love

The feeling of a mother
Towards her child
A living part of her
A truly deep love
That none but mothers
Can fully understand

Then the obvious one
The love between lovers
Which can be ecstasy or agony
Denying sleep or food
Or even clear thought
Oh, such deep deep love

These emotions and more
We call them all love
But are they the same?
Or different views of one face
All in all, I believe that
One word is not enough

                                 By Phil Roberts