There are many things I am not ready for. Forgiveness being one of them. To love means to forgive, and sometimes I don’t know how to take on an enemy’s greeting. All I know of what makes sense is that we have to accept even this kind of effort from our enemy, nemesis, name it what you want because love, in the right context, won’t seek to harm us. Our love is so powerful that it will shield us from even our enemy’s intent.

the desert sun cannot repair this tear,
nor flames that revived us once
extinguish these caustic arguments…
instruments avail with reason to piece us
back together, but forgiveness is a hill
that leaves me breathless each time I walk
its path… I plunge deeper into my own flesh
in hope, one day, I shall learn to let go

© mr gahon 9/17/14


The process of opening ourselves to love, it is a bit like a clam or oyster shell. It needs some energy, some elbow grease sometimes to get at the juicy clam or that lustrous oyster. So worth it after we open it (that is if we aren’t allergic to shellfish). Same with love, I think. Except that elbow grease must be courage paired with persistence of faith. One crack might lead to a wedge and one wedge might lead into a gap and one gap might lead into a ravine… ahhh, the possibilities of love.

in you, I believe
a world in this crevice–
our indifference cease to
exist when mouths open and
we are swallowed inside
the belly of a whale
to contemplate the silence
in our breaths right before
our lips touch and we
purge whats left of sin
and thoughts so long
as we are consumed
only by one another, I shall
continue to sink myself deeper
into the crack until love
pries us all open

© mr gahon 9/9/14

Only You

What if there was no one else but the one. The one in our thoughts, the one who makes us absolutely soar and fall at the same time. The one who occupies our thoughts, who doesn’t dare leave even after night fall. Consumed we are…

my body aches
you are medicine
broken vessels heal
when I take
you inside

starvation begins
in the dark I long
for suffused light to
reach the depths of my
unfathomable hunger…

I crave only you

© mr gahon 8/20/14


Love and math. As rare as this combination is, for just a second, it makes sense. Math, the numerical metaphor for this thing called love, reminds us that we are more than numbers in our ages but comparably the rational in something much deeper that the universe is privy to. We can only hope that when we meet this kind of love, that we learn to count the ways towards everlasting.

the sleepless patterns
coincide with pie
and division… endless
multiplication, I imagine,
in theory our hearts
isolated in parenthesis
that straighten up suddenly
into an isosceles triangle–
the geometry of our love,
I hope, runs deep along these
parallel lines; and when they
tire and crash at last, contract
into a circle one (that is)
never-ending, infinite

© mr gahon 8/13/14

when love goes

What happens when love suddenly dries up… all the juices evaporate and not a single drop to fuel what’s left of desperation, the need to salvage what once stood so stoic, so tall, so confident like a Redwood or a sunflower during summertime. To water it, to feed it with the substance that once nurtured it seems so futile and so far from our grasp to revitalize any part of it that we are left to see its very flesh taken away piece by piece, pound for pound until we are left with grams of nothingness… do we dare let love leave in a residual trail of vapors until to hopelessness found?

what piece is left if
any… love, broken down,
apart from air where I am
almost extinguished as this
fire and hope which once
consumed me with the passion
that rivals the Aztec sun;
to sacrifice the heart of me,
I bleed what aspect may return
you to me, restore what life
we may have in the days of
rain cuddled under umbrellas,
embraced by the storm. what
crimes diminished us today, what
lies, what meaningless words
have we tortured each other
that we collapse so easily,
so depleted, so lifeless…

© mr gahon 8/5/14


Hot summer evenings, all I can think of is the cold. How much more can I crank up the air, how much cooler can I make this room in my head, my heart from overheating sometimes. And it might be as easy as our imagination allows us to be; for what are we if we can’t create this cool in our heads, invent such an atmosphere.

where love lies,
under this umbrella of light
I take shelter from the pouring
rain; the frigid night, frozen
hearts make it impossible to melt,
warm myself up to you.

we are the reason for dreams:
spectacular, unattainable, a
righteous place as heaven
underneath our feet…
yet we have forgotten,
walking past these walls
we are brought down so
ungodly-like that what
feeling of heaven there
is upon your lips,
slips into a tundra,
oblivious ice and ice
and more ice

-mr gahon 7/23/14


Anything is possible when we love. When we refrain from what angers us no matter how much we want to lash out, we have the choice to rise above such feelings and live like royalty. For the possibilities of love is endless, just as the infinite combination of words to make a poem, all the million letters to unscrabble this scrupulous love we have built with one another; we strive for a common understanding, one patient compassion for one another, perhaps. What love there is, the opportunities present themselves daily, it’s up to us to snatch it, seize the chance to express it and unleash it from our hearts.

if it means to love,
then I give wholeheartedly,
my life in tattoos (though
you have judged me too quickly
before that I refrain…
in disdain, try to
find me in the shadows because
the exclamation of this life
lies not in these marks hidden
behind your eyelashes…though
I’ve searched thoroughly
between this life and last,
combed through hell and back
to find one speck, retrieve one
life that isn’t mine (even as I
want you all selfishly in my hands,
lined up against my palms as I kneel,
pray for truth to rise in you).
between you and I, a realm of one;
as the boats of this world tug at
one another, we fit like oceans
from tributaries, branches from
the same tree… and like water,
we share the same course of
passage when we baptize
our love with devotion…
we are royalty when it rains,
wear our thorny crowns and
rule out the pain–
only then can we reign

-mr gahon 7/15/14


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