“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
Love died when the lash was used,
when you to inflicted pain
because pain was what you knew
it was how your world operated.
afterwards you stood back,
observed the scene, smiled wickedly
as you took in the mayhem
and basked in it.
Love died when you said fuck off
that you didn’t care
if I lived or died
you wanted my life a misery
to see me suffer the fool,
but you still punished the innocent.
Love died when you became oblivious
when you acted, denied, queried,
yelled and screamed because that’s what you do
the tantrum your default position
the spoilt brat, who clawed and cut,
when nothing went her way
thought nothing to stab and wound.
never once seeing your sins
always the idiot was at fault.
Love died when the child was denied
warmth as a basic right
you cast her out
for she had left you, injured and damaged
to find her own way in darkness
you cared little about
as you turned your back.
Love died from weariness
from trying, protecting, reaching out
being slapped down one too many time,
it’s too late, backs were turned
each one guilty of its demise
they walked away, refuse to answer
made their lives, their loves
for you to wish for.
Love did die, over a time
but it survived, it struggled forth
from the abyss of suffering
little by little its shape reformed.
they gather round, they sing
they look at each other
say we are family
Love could well have died
but we nurture and rejoice in each other
as love has been rekindled
given a makeover, renewed
with hope and laughter
regular gathering, regular contact
no lashes, no pain, no fear