When I Say I Love You, What I Mean Is This. {poetry}
{source}
When I say I love you, what I mean is this
I love that I can feel you
and the air
the air around us seems alive
as though all things
everything between us is new
you as you
not as I imagine you should be
not as I wish you were.
Because I know you now
it took so long
but it’s true
I finally know you
your lack of unimportant talk
your squinted eyes,
the skeptical tilt of your chin
your uncomplicated observations
all of that makes it clear
you know who you are too.
Your worry
your inner brave
the middle of you
and the top of your head
your beard when you don’t shave
your scruffy, seasoned face
your weird arm-swinging dance.
You, laid back in the sun
your smile, barely there
when you hear something sweet float through the air
like Tiny Dancer, or Yellow Ledbetter
or just because you love it
you’re a person who loves the sun
with your hands clasped across your chest
and your eyes closed
your head all the way back
it’s just something you do
and it makes you familiar.
When I look at you
I see my home
and I remember my babies
protected, curled and cradled
where your strong hands are now
snapshots of them
blissfully sleeping
on a human recliner.
I see you, sensitive
and he comes out, the child inside
you, welled up
when our good little boy died
the way he seized, then slept
and the way we whispered to him
all the way home
we carried him back in a towel
that day I saw the way you love
tried, true, there and loyal
as your heart ached for a silly, little scrap of a dog
you, a grave-digger,
a big brawny man turned tender.
And a time so recent
when you pulled me in
and we crashed like cars
because I was afraid to tell my truth
and you, like the trunk of a tree, unwavering
is how love should always be
and your hand
your hand, how it reaches for mine
all these years
how it still wants to touch mine
how it reverently clutches mine.
When I say I love you, what I mean is
I can feel you
feel you on the inside
pulsing through my blood
not the idea of you
but you as you are
not as I want you to be
not as I wish you were
and what makes you strong
what makes you whole
and what makes you afraid
and what makes you happy
and what makes you tough
and what makes you my friend
and all your imperfect, perfect stuff
from a million miles away
I would feel it still
I would hear just your voice
my secret thrill, just yours
in a crowd of many.
Because your exhale enters me
and the way you give it
your giving of you
even just your breath
will never be enough
and why you love me back
is still a mystery
how lucky I am
because I know you
the way I finally know you
and I don’t have to wonder at all about love
For love is you
in front of me
leaning in, covering me
you as you are
not as I imagine you should be
and not as I wish you were.
***
Kimberly Valzania practices mindful gratefulness. She feels creatively driven to write about and share her personal experience and opinion on weight loss, fitness, life changes, adventures in parenting, day-to-day triumphs (and failures), and the truth-seeking struggle of simply being human. She believes that life is indeed a journey, and that precious moments appear (like magic) when she surrenders to beauty in all forms, and the divine chaos of unpredictable circumstances. She is happily imperfect, and plans to stay that way. You can read more at her website.
***
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