Whilst Looking at a Newlywed Couple and Thinking of All Our Years
Darling, I see ourselves in them.
.
30 years nigh, much before love found its kennels in us,
we were at each other's throats,
claiming ownership.
.
We were uncharted territory,
navigating maps drawn on notion -
you found crowded squares where you'd drawn lovers corners,
I found you seeking winter's bones* in my spring-lit meadows.
.
I'd hoped you to be someone else,
you'd wanted me to be anybody but me.
.
I guess even in our reconciliations,
we tiptoed warily around our fragilities -
and discovered each other in persistences:
bonds which don't break immediately
finds ways of intricate entanglements.
.
Soon questions of whether we were good for each other
were subsumed in our discovery
of crevices of comfort in the other.
.
Does love grow in the soil of habit?
.
Now, at the end of the day, I keep the thought
and the satchel away,
and walk into the glow of a home
which welcomes me like the final piece of a jigsaw.
.
In the autumn of our lives, we learnt
love is often a function of answers
without the burden of asking questions.
.
In the autumn of our lives, we learnt
love is a survival of miracles
even as our hearts collapse in minutiae.
.
*an old Appalachian expression "like a dog digging after a winter's bone", indicating someone who is on a search and will not give up.
Other lovely poems on relationships and reconciliations:
As We Meet Again at the End of the Day
For Nothing More Than A Look of Me
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