MoonViews

There's more truth in a candle flame
than all books ever written.
There's more love in an innocent tear
than in every promise made.
There's more certainty in a sigh
more hope in a dream
There's more doubt in belief
more hate in grief.
There's more freedom in obedience
than in blazing a wellworn trail
There's more to misery than Hell.
There's more need in a kiss
than in every earthly plan.
There's more to bliss
than I can understand.
There's more trust in a touch
more permanence in a smile
There's more God inside than out
more emptiness with than without.

If I became a broken man
would you still be my bride?
If I could no longer pick you
sunshine from the sky
Would you push me aside?

If I struggle to stand or cry to crawl
would you stand for me and be my all?
Or would you give my love to a total man
hoping I and others would understand?

Am I still the man,
though half the strength,
I was when I chased you the length
of a hopeful heart in a ga-ga girl ...
when your loving smile pierced my world?

If a promise made is etched on God
and I falter on the way,
Will I see your hand reach for me
as I held you today?

The government department of which I am director – Historical Reference Eradication – sits on the corner of Vermont and Carolina. Basically, by the first anniversary of a person’s death we will have successfully expunged all references to his or her existence. All taxes records, newspaper articles, high school annuals, church tithing accounts – everything. Only memory escapes our reach. One is even prohibited from inscribing names on grave markers.

I met Lori for lunch at a New Orleans-style bistro across from our building. I swelled with pride and a profound love I can never describe when I saw her waiting just inside the entrance, still bundled against the snow and freezing grip of this December day.

“Hello there,” she smiled. “I love you, Mister.”

“Too late, ma’am. I loved you first.”

“Which has absolutely no significance,” she said before kissing me. The familiar scent of her perfume reassured me that all was well with the day, with my life. Looking at her I saw all the colors of the universe.

After ordering lunch she asked how my day was going.

“Pretty good, actually. This morning I closed the Living History file on Senator _______,” I said proudly.

But not very smartly. I winched at the thought of having just reopened a fresh wound. Her countenance changed immediately, and the hurt look on my lover’s face cut me to the marrow.

“I still can’t see how you can take pride in such heartless work,” she whispered to her water glass.

“Babe, please. Let’s not go there again,” I implored.

“But it seems so … so inhuman!”

“Honey, life belongs to the living. Historical references only bring us down into the past. Why can’t you see that? Why should we care what Jefferson thought when his culture had absolutely nothing in common with ours?”

“So will you ‘erase’ me if I die before you do?”

“Dammit, Lori, stop! You’re in my heart forever. Would you prefer being in a textbook?”

As always, my temper alienated my lover, and I felt as unworthy of her love as I did of a Creator’s salvation. Her chin shook immediately and she collected her things and left without a word.

As she turned the corner outside the restaurant the sleet began pouring heavier. I looked back to an empty chair so important to me a moment before.

I've been consumed
with thoughts
all this day
Of you, me, and
the way.
I reach across years
to touch your
smile
because I see in you
pleasant love,
All the while
knowing we two
could be one -
captives of the Father
and the Son.

That love which cannot surmount
isn't love and lives without
the single flower in snowswept fields
that leads us to eternal yields.

That love which cannot abide
the fears of life which we both hide
Isn't love and lives without
the peace that comes when we surmount.

I would die for one chance to see
me in you and you in me.
I would bleed sweet years for more
than what we've both dismissed before.

That love which cannot renew
the dream I have inside of you
Isn't love and cries to see
what becomes of you and me.