At Once

The claim that love pervades this world may not sound real to you but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Most of us just haven’t learned to pay much attention to the countless moments of love, kindness, and care that surround us each day: a child at the store reaching for her mother’s hand, an elderly stranger at the park who smiles upon a young family, a grocery clerk who beams at you as she hands you your change.
—John Makransky, “Love is All Around”

Sometimes when I love you
I leave the earth, floating
above the browning field and the pine-
dappled mesas, above the golden aspen
and through the striated white, through
the tremblesome edge of the blue to the place where
there arc of the earth is visible, through
the black, past gravity, deeper into deeper
vastness, where I enter the nothingness
that is myself and you and all that is whole.

And sometimes when I love you,
I have never been more human,
so much a creature of skin and hair,
bone and vein, the pumping
and whirring that happen here
in the tides of blood, mitochondria
and genetic twist, and all the chemical
rushes in the amygdale, the neurological
storms as the synapses fire and fire
and miss and fire again.

I see you everywhere and everywhere I do not see you.
Everywhere you are hidden and revealed.

On the drive home today, I notice the quiver
in the leaves that are left. And the spaces
that are newly found in the branches.

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