Love is a series
of appointments with pain.
You cannot avoid them
no matter what gain
you might make in the pocket book -
there’s still that locket - look!
What is inside? Lock of hair
or a picture reminds you that there
It is - the appointment shall not be missed on any account but see
What bliss it is to be loved and to love
Love live love, live love, love live love.

If eyes roll
In the forest
Would a tree
Keel over
From ennui?

Holy, holy things appear,
Everywhere, and now, and here,
Ark of the Covenant, Rose of Sharon,
Mistletoe, and the Vessel of Charon
Rosary Beads and Holy Bread
Shaman’s Shaker, Shroud Print of Head,
Reliquary, Wand of a Fairy
Bone Marrow and Sacred Arrow
Tooth of Elk, Shell of Whelk…
Who’s to say what’s holy or not?
But about these things ****** battles are fought.

Submissive spirit,
shout your first exclamations!
Unashamed anger.

When all else is gone,
When I can’t hear the song,
And I must close my eyes,
Something inside cries
“It’s me! I’m here!
In a place without fear,
I’m the voice of love,
Sweet as heaven above.
Love is me, the real me.”
Me. Really.

Virginia Giglio
February 2019