Modern Love

I walk down the sacred aisle, a grande hall spilling over with fresh smelling flowers and hopeful faces.  I march forward into the haze, a prisoner, daydreamer of,  “life happily ever after”.  As our toes cross the threshold, our breath beats to the meter of the vows being spoken for us.  So, I sign up for the cave experience, Mrs. You, silence and shadow.

Shadows are illusions.  Illusions like: “you complete me”, “two halves make a whole”,  “in good times and in bad”, and “till death do us part”.   The illusions are the “big day”, “the rock” and the house on the highest hill- “the good life”.  But, by and far, the biggest illusion is that this is true.

You could turn around with me to sense the puppeteers, the faceless architects of these illusions; you can feel that they, too, are in a sort of bondage.  I integrate into this newly discovered society confirming itself to be stirring, in a mode of searching.  We are blind and confused, bumping into one another angry, sweating, crying, and carrying on our backs mini vans and swimming pools.  With our mouths barely moving, lowly chanting, “You love football.  You love the neighbor’s car.  You love the remote control.  You love broccoli…” Imagine the weight!  Seems refreshingly criminal to only be a prisoner in this cave.

But, allow me to ascend toward a light in the distance, beyond the living grave.  I discover that this passageway out is lined with past prisoners and puppets.   Quietly at first, but then louder and still louder I hear clearly, “I love music!  I love art!  I love the hard rain!”  I suddenly realize I have am speaking freely too, “I love spinach!”

My climb reaches the highest of heights, like the apex of a great pyramid.  The faces become clear, the bondage and load is a memory and replaced with a warm understanding of something new, myself.  Can you imagine such a discovery, in such a place?  My own hand reaches in and pulls me up into the bright light above, melting away fear.  A new independence lives outside this cave.  I smell the sweet grass and smile to the song of the birds flocking over my head.  Wind gusts pass me and I feel the hairs on my arms rise.  I am fully awakened by the sounds of the ocean before me, actualized by the warm sun above me.  I know; I love this.

But, my favourite part of this story happens when I feel a familiar touch on my shoulder, and I turn around to meet eyes I already know.

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~ by Joy Suzanne Grazer on May 17, 2010.

8 Responses to “Modern Love”

  1. love a happy ending

  2. Contrary to popular opinion, love makes us numb.

    It makes us brave enough to cut off the most precious part of our hearts
    as a sacrifice for something so ephemeral…

    Makes us trust blindly that the other person will do the same to make us whole.x

    That last line touched me, made my heart contract hard enough to cry tears I’d though had been cried out long ago. Like Moses, you made water flow from stone…

    At least there’s hope for you that this too shall pass.

  3. I love it too. You have an interesting approach to writing. Not always rhyming, but more twisted in thought. Twisted is good and it gets you thinking! Great stuff

  4. Just want to say what a great blog you got here!
    I’ve been around for quite a lot of time, but finally decided to show my appreciation of your work!

    Thumbs up, and keep it going!

    Cheers
    Christian,Earn Free Vouchers / Cash

  5. Do not agree with K.L. about “angry” in this poem. I think you write from a place of understanding more than anything else. People who have been through alot are better able to express more feelings and complex feelings. I do agree with “cryptic” though! I guess that is the nature of poetry!

  6. Like style. Not sure I get it tho. 🙂

  7. what makes this interesting to me is that you start off almost angry about what looks like marriage but then you go off into an acceptance of reality and peoples expectations of it. in the end it seems like you are saying people have these expectations and what is really real is the day to day climb of learning about yourself inside a picture of reality that you created. some of these do mnot really make sense to me, but regardless my interpretation sees this. have you ever just written anything straight forward? alot of your poems are cryptic, but I guess that is art after all. keep em guessing

  8. Nevermind! It’s so funny how what is good for you aint so so for some! Let them. Who cares anyway write what you want!

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