love, like life, can be so painful at times that it twists and turns and we yearn. it confuses and bends and stretches. it comes unexpected, it leaves if neglected, sometimes not. sometimes it thrives regardless, like the weed (which is just another name for a flower that some would say is 'unwanted'.) But whether we want to love or not, or to be in-love, we are stuck with it regardless and there is no getting around it. One can be like Penelope from the Odyssey, waiting for her lover hanging on to only hope where perhaps there is no sign of it for as long as twenty  - an endless tableaux and a folly to a love that is perhaps impossible - or not. Who can say. What i do know for sure is that where there is love there will be happiness, there will be joy, and there will be grief.

late march, 9.42 a.m., 2008


sunday ritual - family gathering

It is Sunday again, the roast in the oven,

house thick with the scent

Of cooking and of loves gentle

Lamb, a sacrifice for this feast.

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