Ra was a divine being
And so far I can’t find
Any evidence to support you’re not.
Some say he created us
Through sweat and tears
I’m not saying
You’ve done the same
Yet there are times
I’ve felt baptized in yours
Thought you were the only reason
The gods ever created human beings.
Ancient Egyptians often
Called themselves: “Cattle of Ra”
I’m not ashamed to say
You’re my shepherd
I’d follow you anywhere you lead.
Now, Ra is best known as a sun god
The ruler of both the Earth and sky
And, of course, it’s true you rule mine
But maybe you’re nothing like him
Because the way you shine
Blinds the light.
My love is not an I, I, I
It’s a you, you, you
An us, us, us.
My love cannot be put to bed
It never closes its eyes
It never sleeps—can’t be laid to rest.
My love cannot ungrow
It’s for all seasons
Blossoms in the sunshine and the moonlight.
My love is an “original goodness”
A remembered dream
That which can resuscitate a heart.
The bye never is
The wave alone
Puts waves in my eyes
Will this be a parting?
Will this be an end?
The bye never is
I wish only to say goodbye
I don’t love you
I know that now.
Perhaps I did at first
But I’m unsure.
I’ve overthought the subject of us more than once
Concluded only this: I care for you
In a way that far exceeds love’s feebleness
And in words that are yet to even exist.
We’ve never raised a voice
Nor slammed a door
Yet still we engage in these epic apology wars:
Saying sorry for nothing
That needs saying sorry for.
So maybe I won’t be your
good morning or good night
Maybe I won’t be able to
bake you that birthday cake from scratch
or massage your favorite oil
into your hair or even paint your toenails
your favorite shade of sea green.
And maybe we won’t be able to cry together
or hold each other’s hands delicately, tenderly, tightly
when it really matters—when it really counts
Because maybe love doesn’t conquer everything
and that’s the real lesson, the real truth
hidden beneath our utopian relationship
But you know what?
I still believe our love has no half-life.
I’ve never really, really shared the truth of
How much I miss you when you’re absent
Because it couldn’t ever fit the length of a text:
The space needed is the size of an encyclopedia
Why do you run before
my apologies have a chance
Is my sorry
not the color of a rose?
Does it not smell of
regret, sorrow, remorse?
Would a different word,
a softer word,
thaw the forgiveness in your eyes?
Ich liebe dich
Я люблю тебя
میں تم سے پیار کرتا ہوں
It’s not you or me, really
It’s the stars, the poles
of magnets, the hands
of the gods, the three Sisters of Fate
Well, sometimes it’s only you
And, sometimes it’s only me
But also, the tides of love, the gravitational
pull of celestial spheres, chemistry and chemicals,
hormones and synapses, butterflies and that winged boy with arrows,
pen and paper, tea leaves and tarot cards, and
social influencers, bloggers, rebels, dreamers, lovers
See, really, it’s not up to you or me
Because if the universe wants an us
Who are we to go against the universe?