Home » Weekly Poems: A Poem About Marriage and More

Reprint

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU DON'T LOVE ME

I do not understand why you don't love me.
You loved me once. What changed? What did I do?
Your eyes are mirrors in which I can't see me.
Your lips are closed, a door I can't pass through.
For years we shared our bodies, thoughts, and lives.
Now we lie at night encased in stone.
Something's turned the simplest words to knives.
I live with you, and yet I live alone.
I do not want to be the one who leaves.
After all, I'm not the one who changed.
But dead is dead, and for the one who grieves,
The loved one should be gone, not just estranged.
You say that nothing's wrong and all is well,
But I well know the truth you will not tell.

MIRACLES HAVE A WAY OF MAKING NEWS

Miracles have a way of making news.
Even skeptics stare at parted seas.
Religious or not--Christians, Muslims, Jews--
Resurrection brings them to their knees!
Years ago, miracles were in vogue:
Christ and Moses wowed the willing crowds;
Holy icons healed both saint and rogue;
Rare wonders were ascribed to cups and shrouds.
In our time miracles are everyday,
So few can hope to grab us, or astound.
The mysteries that clutter up our way
May seem much more perplexing than profound.
And yet life is miraculous: to be
Surpasses any wonder we might see.

DO NOT DOUBT I LOVE YOU

Do not doubt I love you, even though
My actions may have undermined my words.
We could be as connubial as birds
Had I not let my wild longings show.

I cannot help wanting to devour
All the world that comes before my eyes;
But more than all the world is that which lies
Within the precious circle of our bower.

I'll do anything to keep you with me;
Our love will last as long as you have will.
Despite my untamed need, my love is still
A rock against the surges of the sea.

HOW EXPLAIN THE MIRACLE OF LIGHT

How explain the miracle of light?
A lamp's a miracle, refueled or no.
Nor is there aught that ought be more than night,
Unless some unmade maker make it so.
Know that nothing is but miracles,
Kindled from the void we know not how;
And God, if God there be, the greatest miracle,
Here within the sepulcher of now.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

Happy Holidays! Whichever ones
Apply: Jewish, Christian, secular!
Practicing people are not particular,
Perhaps because all people carry buns.
Year's end's a time of darkness, true, but when
Has darkness ever darkened one small light?
Our pleasures are like candles in the night,
Lighting lamps that burn beyond our ken.
In celebration there is more than joy:
Days of feasting bind our friendships fast,
A fat and full embrace of things that last,
Yet holy in what sense one might employ,
Savoring sweet songs that spirits buoy.

SO MAY YOU BE HAPPY AT THIS TIME

So may you be happy at this time,
Even as the sun turns back again,
A simple fact, a symbol, and a sign
Some would find but little meaning in.
Out of what we see we make ourselves,
Needing to be taught that ancient art.
Souls born when the woods were full of elves
Give lessons in the shaping of the heart.
Reason now supplies an explanation
Equal to the workings of the will,
Exact in each elliptical equation
That would all can't and superstition still.
In numbers, though, there is great mystery,
Nor is what we measure what we see,
Giving space for poetry and dance,
Song and celebration, choice and chance.

TO THANK YOU IS A GIFT ONE GIVES ONESELF

To thank you is a gift one gives oneself,
Having felt the fullness of one's being.
As you might--or not--be listening,
None knows more than his own gratitude.
Knowledge is beside the point, the gulf
So wide between us there's no hope of seeing.
Gifts require givers, so one sings
In thanks that in oneself some grace might move.
Vast quantities of thanks lie on the shelf
In wait for a fresh faith that might be freeing.
Nor ought one hold one's thanks until some bell rings,
Giving one an object for one's love.