Poem: Love Coming Easy


Does love ever come easy?

Would we still want it if it did?

You present yourself to me

Like a golden swan tangled in barbed wire

Or a piece of sumptuous fruit

Seasoned with razors

I think of the road I must travel

To get to your heart; and it seems

So perilous and complex –

Miles and miles of winding, aortal corridors

Ever in ambush from bureaucrats, bandits,

Jealous rivals, and the ugly misapprehension

Of societal conventions –

An Egyptian Road of the Dead

When I get to the centre

Will my heart be weighed against a feather?

Because, I assure you, my heart is already filled

With feathers, that ruffle, puff, preen, and fly

At the slightest agitation –

There is no straight course:

No ‘As The Crow Flies’



As Dante longed for Beatrice,

So I long for you,

And my feet are already stricken

With the thorns, from the miles

I have erstwhile tread.

But hope can be hard to hold

Onto; like a rarefied butterfly, cupped

In my hands, the slightest distemper

Could send it off in search of fairer weather –

But I will not be dissuaded –

Dismayed, delayed, waylaid, yet

Never to be deterred, like the ravening wolves

That chase after the sun

Does love ever come easy?

No – one must dig deep to get the gold

I take myself out into the Arctic Wilds

And resume digging in the vanquishing cold





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