Love is in Your Hands

Love is liquid–
a sinuous stream
of consciousness weaving
throughout time from diaper
to death and maybe even
after, when who
knows what’s

and time passes.

I grew up
thinking that
love would find me
and that it would be forever–
but it took me a minute, in the time of the
ethers, to know that finding love or being found
starts by seeking stars or stones in the ground,
the fish in the creeks, the mud on
the bank, the wind in the leaves,
the way your heart sank into
the pain of today,
and the hope for

and on.

and time passes.

And some
loves come
and some loves go
but the love that lasts
after time has passed is the love
you mold, and grow,
and give to yourself
and those you know
who may have
hurt you but
now you

and time passes.

Love is not lost when you
make sure it can be found,
planting those seeds deep
in the ground, where roots
lie dormant without giving

back waiting for your water
and when the earth has a
knack to return to you a gift
of love cultivated by your hand.

Love is liquid,
a life-sustaining element
as stable as it is ready to explode–

into many little bits that you’ll have to gather
and put back together–but maybe
this time you form it a
little differently
than you did

and time slows down.

Love is in your hands,
let it rest, let it be
expressed, let
yourself trust
your heart
to feel is to know,

to create is to grow,

and for a second, when you love, time stands still.