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[Love Wasn’t as They Said]
Love wasn’t as they said…
It didn’t last forever as they claimed…
It is fleeting moments only recognized
By those with sight and insight…
And perhaps only captured
By those patiently waiting as if to see a lightning in the sky…
And, like lightning perhaps, we never know
Where love goes after it strikes…
And perhaps the only love that lasts
Is one that know when to stay and when to walk away…
**
Love wasn’t synonymous with honor
As they defined honor...
It is often the awareness that falls upon us
After betraying or letting down the loved ones…
Love wasn’t holding hands forever,
It is boring afternoons spent together
With no words
And no activities…
It wasn’t lifetime sexual attraction
As many claimed…
It is the companionship that remains
After the hormonal fires are put out,
When the noises of immaturity go silent,
And after the childish quarrels and squabbles stop…
It is the home that remains erected
Long after getting erectile dysfunction…
It that appetite for life after the last egg from the last period…
It is that strange feeling of elation
That may come after what is mistakenly called a “midlife crisis”,
To fill that frightening gap between hope and reality…
**
Love is a widow brushing her hair,
On a bus or in a public place,
Unbothered by onlookers or passersby,
As she opens her shabby handbag
And takes out an apple to bite on
With the teeth she has left…
Love is an eye surrounded with wrinkles
But is finally able to see the world
Sensitively, insightfully, and more realistically,
Without exaggerated embellishment or distortion…
**
Love is shreds of joy
Interspersed with long intervals
Of boredom, exhaustion, reproach, and disappointment…
It’s not measured with red flowers, bears, and expensive gifts in shiny wraps,
It is who remains when the glucose, blood pressure and cholesterol numbers are high…
It’s those who stay after the heart catheterization and knee replacement surgeries…
Love gets stronger after getting osteoporosis
And may move mountains despite the rheumatism…
**
Love is the few seconds when our eyes cross with strangers
Who awaken in us feelings we hadn’t experienced with those living with us in years…
Or perhaps it’s rubbing arms and shoulders with a passenger
On a bus, in a train, or on a plane…
It is that fleeting look from a passerby in the street
Convey to us that they, too, have understood the game,
But there’s not much they can do about it…
**
Love wasn’t as they said
It wasn’t as they said…
It is not 1+1=2…
It is sometimes three or more…
At other times, it grows at point zero or lower,
In solitude, in loneliness, and in seclusion…
Isn’t it time, I wonder,
to demolish everything falsely, unfairly, and misleadingly
attributed to love?
Or is it that love burns and dies
Precisely when we try to capture it in our hands?
[Original poem published in Arabic on October 27, 2022 at ahewar.org]
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