Love is not the answer.
Love is a young lover, fragile, innocent,
careless and naive, like the eyes of the doe gazing up.
She acts without thought. She seeks answers, too.
Love is the first step, the budding root
that leads blindly the heart of man into foreign
lands, without caution, without knowing,
She does not care for broken hearts,
circumstances, regrets or inherited pride
that will set her apart. No, she is
ruthless and self-seeking.
She will not cradle you into comfort,
spoon feed the hollow of your mouth,
or embrace the softness of your heart
or pleading face.
Absolutely. There is a kind of selfishness about love.
Know her well. She has known you.
She expects, she yearns, she waits like an unruly
lover, ignorantly, into the night, out into the blue.
She is a combination of bitter sweets, too,
hurt, entwined with ecstasy, ecstasy surging after ecstasy.
They work in collaboration: touching, curing, breaking,
trampling, and putting the feathers of the soul,
yours to be exact, through infinite tests.
Only the heart herself can calm love’s ache.
No. Do not ask love, about love.
Ask wisdom, instead, who has tasted
love’s lips, has felt her embrace, her
mocking games and mud covered face.
She will tell you a thing or two, about the madness,
the torment, the erratic highs and disfigured
tattoos between the lows.
Ask knowledge, too. She has felt the throbbing,
has felt pain, and has grown amongst thorns that bleed,
and has tasted the spurt of blood from bended knees;
dragging her lifeless body, from street corner,
to street, to street – with no answers to be found.
And ask the burnt heart of experience,
about the aftermath of the sting. Touch her
ashes and see, she is still warm, she still
bleeds. She has endured and withered
and matured in spirit too, from love’s
instability that arrived, then bid adieu.
No. Do not ask love,
about love. Seek within.
Copyright @ By Author V.S. Atbay
From The Book: Epiphany - A Collection of Poems
Publisher - Friesenpress - 2013