You are the farthest place
my faith has taken me.
When believing is its own requisite proof
and we don’t need a Deus ex machina
or pick anybody’s pocket
in the chaos of Mardi Gras
for a happy ending that lasts,
destiny married forever,
gave birth to healthy sons and raised them
on when there’s a will, there’s a way.
You are the truest shore that
my trust has lowered its anchor on.
Love is hard work
love is a blue collar job
with a bank account
and yours has strong arms that carry me
sometimes it goes overtime, and
sometimes we play hookey
and dilute all responsibility
in a hot cup of coffee
but you never let me go hungry.
Rung by rung on this ladder,
on this musical scale where we vowed
to arrange all the songs we will make
all the furniture we will own
we will climb past the malicious noise
and misguided guidance
of those determined to undermine
what they won’t accept
what they don’t understand
and though fear and doubt
stake their claims in the night
like faceless traitors,
they are many but they are slow.
Our love, vigilant and prudent,
subliminally feeds me courage
even as I sleep.
No dawn will find us stranded.
No day will pass and not see us
a whole day’s work closer
to a promise kept.
We will overtake them,
two steps forward at a time,
one for today
to set aside for a rainy day.
And someday, we will look back on them,
all that we have outrun,
from a vast and sanctified distance.
“Date” by photographer Alena Root