I am ambivalent about being told which day of the year I am to express especial love to my beloved. This Valentine's, though, I got to thinking about the different seasons of love - that first flash of intensity, that flares again at different moments; that slow-burning flame that burns low but long; the light that we share in so many different ways at different times of our story, that is the light we make between us.
Along these lines, I scribbled a poem into my journal.
Our love is light
Our love has been the flare of singular blinding light
That causes the world to reposition;
A light that blinds, and yet rescues.
In this light I have leapt into the unknown;
I have raced to shady places in grassy fields;
I have lain, and rocked, and danced.
And our love has been the beam of a lighthouse,
A regular, turning shaft across the rocks;
Holding back from shipwreck, and destruction.
In this light we have stood strong;
We have been brave, we have been faithful;
We have held firm, and shone bright.
Our love has been the flicker of a candle;
A warming glow that draws, it beckons ever closer;
A circle of invitation, a comfort in the night.
Into this light we have welcomed,
Made room for warm bodies around the table;
We have held hands, and shared stories, and laughed.
I’ll take the bright but short-lived flare
That lights up the night,
And lodges in my heart.
I’ll take the sweeping beams
That cast dangers into shadow
And bring courage to my eyes.
I’ll take the candle’s flicker,
Step towards its humble flame
Feel the life it offers.
And I will trust that any ember
Will respond to our breath
And spring forth, in time, with hearty flame.