Prophecy

Prophecy- written and shared for the wedding of my dear friends Bria and Mark (mazel tov!)

Somewhere in the wilderness,
I asked this of the oracle:
What is love?
And the oracle replied:

Love is sky. It is freedom, also shelter,
blue and fathomless, openness and storm.

Love is rain. The breathing in of what is

necessary: simple but inestimably precious.

Love is the mistral of spring, singing. 

Love is howling.
Love is a banjo playing lonely  

to the moon, and love is a duet.

Love is fire and sometimes misery 

and love is ancient, ancient,
old as rocks

and soft as something birthed this morning, 

standing up for the first time on wobbly legs,

vulnerable, sweet with future.

Love is a pirate and a maverick, 

love is the outlaw kind 

who cannot be defined or pinned to paper,
love has wings. Love brings what it wants to bring.
Love is grit and work and callouses, 

love is holding, beholding, and being held.

Love is- said the oracle, and then they stopped.
Love is indefinable, and I am wasting words. 

Look around you! THIS is love,
said the oracle.

And then the oracle demanded whisky, 

crawled under a rock, and went to sleep.