SHE

 

whom i first saw from across a kitchen

who in that moment made of me a pilgrim for love

whose beauty and being seized me and seize me still, lucky as i am

who doesn’t fear the profundity of her soul

who, my god, was made in her own image

who embraces the world, including its pain

who is wise like nature and mythology

whose strength is as soft as Lao Tzu’s

whose beauty runs like a river

whose surface reveals her depths

into whose gravity i gratefully fall

and in whose love i aspire to dwell

whose children will tattoo her name on their hearts

who is the self the searchers are searching for

who resides at the center of her own being

who swims in being itself

whose skin always fits the fluctuating contours of her becoming

whose love language needs no translation

whose love is an open invitation to love

whose love, whose love, who’s love