my valentine's day isn't regulated by any saint. my heart remains a truthful organ to itself. no one should have to heed to the pressures of societal doctrines regarding when you can show or profess or prove or state your love.
in this manner, i defy the notion that i must chose simply one of the days out of the year to "have a valentine," to "be that special someone" for someone, or to love merely because of a federally-sanctioned holiday.
my love is constant and true. my love grows and flourishes beyond these bounds. my love duplicates and multiplies, and extends its wide embrace towards all who would encounter it, and yet, does it have a place to rest in this day?
we have had times, both delightful and horrendous, and we push through despite barriers of sadness and grief. the imminent death of my houseplants parallel the state of hope for one of my loves which remains at odds with itself; there is no one day for my love. and even though my love is at present a question mark with an indefinite destination, it remains aloft and ever-resilient.
tonight's homework:
make a little cake and share it with someone you care about. give someone a hug. tell someone they are your valentine or that you are theirs, not because of the day, but because you mean it.
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1 comment:
Amen brotha. Love isn't a box of chocolates or a card whose message was pre-written in a cubicle.
P.S. - I love you
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