Can this cup
pass from me?

Dear sister,
Dear brother,

Where is your love
for our Father,
our Mother,

me?

The love of many shall wax cold.

And here we are,
vomiting poison

until the grass around us
begins to roil
into
lava.

A simple hug:
Chest to chest,
Arms wrapped tight.
Bracing hug from weary husband to crumpled wife.

Head tentatively rests
Against his shoulder.
The tightness of heart
Lets go.

And the heart finally beats:
A warmth
And awakening
To the kind of love
That means courage.

Too often
our truths
only
lurk
in our depths,
only skulk,
only shy.

And our complex
mouth and eyes
and cells and skins
flap on with the rubber grace
of severed organs–

Severed from the healing roots
of sanity
and self
and
reality

that, sadly,
only lurks.