Understatement

It felt like an understatement
of what it meant
to be in love.

Passion didn’t pulse
through ready veins
and she thought
maybe love would never
be felt that way.

Maybe it came on subtly
through a laugh that
was truly hers
or it was a breath
that filled the spaces
between words.

She feared she’d never know
as her mind skipped
subtleties
and reminisced on the intense
that only came through
memory.

Maybe love
was meant to feel like
an understatment.

It’s not the pouring rain
but the silence that
lingers between raindrops.
It is not the roar of
thunder
or the bolt piercing
the darkened sky
it is the patience
between spaces.

It is the waiting
the listening for
how close we are
to destruction.
And how we’ve proven
that we’re always
far enough away.

Maybe love
is safe
it does not keep us
on our toes
but grounds our heels
and has us stand tall
without forcing us
to search for balance.

Could it be that it
does not sway us?
It does not test us
to see how strong
we truly are?

It does not question.

It encompasses us
and feeds our growth.

It pulls us gently
not to see us trip
but to
watch us move
in all directions.

Maybe love was meant to
feel like an understatement.

But we refuse to accept
peace
as the real thing.
We programmed ourselves
for turmoil.
So we stand in down pours
we seek in words
we wait for lightening to strike
so we can tell them
how bad it burned.

The thunder clouds our
judgement
and numbs our ears
we no longer are able to
hear the silence
between raindrops.
We only hear the
ringing
from stormy days.

All the while
love sits patiently
though we swear
we let it slip away.