An early winter evening with
motorcycle wind and headlights moving
through the lights
of houses full of warmth.
I open the door
into a darkened room
and the sound
of running feet.
She is there
with the smell of incense
lighting candles
behind the bedroom door.
She has George Winston's
music playing
And I feel deeply blessed
to see her love,
her playfulness,
her passion.
My hands are cold from the dark ride
and she enfolds me,
and kisses my neck like the heat
from a winter wood stove.
Such feelings of intimacy fill me.
And in this moment
I am both spirit and flesh;
Transient, and yet imperishable.
This washes over me ...
I. am. loved.
So many years,
and so many women,
I've passed through
just to gain this vision.
Just to be able
to see how deep
her goodness, sincerity,
and caring, are.
I tell her this
and she laughs at me.
She says it just takes some of us longer
than others to see the obvious.
I can see that these soft experiences
of intimate reality are
so much of what is real
and worthy in us.
And that all the rest
are only the moments
between these moments.
But.... but...
These human moments of ours
can also pass in darkness.
In jungles . ..from where gaze
fearful hidden eyes
amid the scream of bullets
where women hide babies
with hands covered by dirt.
Places of terror and death.
And these are ours as well.
For we are
both the light
and the shadow.
This world cannot see it's insane.
But I will remember
what is real.
And I, too,
will dim the room and burn incense
for someone.
and gather our small love
and peace
against the storm.
gallagher
20 Nov 87
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —