January 22, 2015

Cookbook

My friend, please remember how I've loved you.
Not like art, not like a storm.
Not unrequited. Not exactly like that.
Like... our friendship is one of my favorite recipes.
It is full of metaphor.
It compounds flavors and creates something new.
Like... my giggles would draw shy smiles from you.
Like... your quiet kindness would reduce me till only I was left.

Open the cookbook
Find the page
Complete with color photograph and a short introduction
Of how perfect this is for just the right season.
Gather your ingredients
(Some of my favorites are as follows:)

You would sing to me
Love songs, weird songs,
Songs about heaven and your heart
You'd sing just to get a smile out of me
You were the hero in my scars

You were my best friend
The first to tell me I'm worth more
The first to make me feel as beautiful as you believed me to be
The first to fight for me
To cross battle lines that were actually a circle
I'd drawn tightly around myself.

When you were seventeen, you told me that I saved you from yourself
I never told you, angel,
You're the one who changed me
You're the one who unfolded me
You're the one who saved me or
Maybe, it's just love that transforms.

“Ima” (The Prodigal’s Mother)

 Birth is the only jubilant end To one life being shared with another. Not so joyous is the letting go that comes after. No one told me what...