The courts here said no to certain marriage, but maybe
love is always a matter of time and this isn't the season just yet.
I'm imagining a day when pronouns won't matter except for "we"
and "us," and the protest lines will disappear or better still, unite.
Until then, bibles trotted out, pronouncements made, sides defended,
and a flurry of reasons why matrimony shouldn’t be bestowed on those
who can commit to it in earnest. But when the dust settles, and this battle ended,
love will be an outstretched hand, a proffering of peace that has no foes.
And we will understand the state of this more perfect union:
Each new morning, a fact of freedom. All that sunlight tumbling in.
5 comments:
:-) Brava!
beautiful.
Your poetry is lovely. I'd invite you to submit something at Conclave: A Journal of Character www.conclavejournal.com
Thank you.
Valya
Wow,
I am excited to have found your blog. I have been looking through many of your posts and I find your poetry resonates with me a great deal. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Peace to you.
PS I am a San Franciscan by birth and lived there for many years, although now I have been away for many as well. Some of your posts remind me of many good times in my old hometown.
Have you published anything? I would love to buy a book of yours!
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