A Gift Given

I can't write poetry.
I can't ryhme. No matter how
hard
I
try
it all comes out like the corniest thing you've ever seen.
Like what you were forced to write
in middle school.

But I need to
somehow
express the glory that has been given to me.
I wanted to use a poem, but I failed
miserably
so I'm going to just tell you
not so fancy.
Just words.

Love
I'm still learning what it means
but it is
I'm afraid
too beautiful to grasp in a word.
It's more than wanting what's best for someone
more than wanting to be with them every moment
more than wanting them to succeed so badly
that you cry for them
hurt for them
cheer for them
pray for them and never stop
even when the happy feeling in your stomach that you always have
goes away
because they're not perfect.

Neither are you.

This is what I'm learning of love.
This is one of those things that together make up this glory I spoke of.
that I am allowed to experience the beauty and the hurt
of love
and that I am gifted with his love
and gifted with love for him.

And that is the beginning
because I have grown up in love.
These two dear individuals who have cared for me
for two decades
have hurt for me
cheered for me
prayed for me
And I have learned to do the same for them.

The world is so full of pain
twisted things
so full of envy and pride and greed and
hatred
especially for oneself
that love can rarely survive.
I know I am one of the few who have it
whole
and not twisted.
Not perfect
no.
But so pure.

Why me?
I have asked that question before
regarding anguish.
Why was it given to me?
Now I ask it
regarding
love.
Why was it given to me?
Why was the glory of love in it's blooming beauty
bestowed upon such a small
insignificant
normal
human
as
I.
Why.

I have no answer save this truth:

I am loved.

And that great Love that has chosen to give to me
more than I could ever deserve.
There is no explanation
save Love.

I now
rejoice
that my love
will keep blooming
as time goes on and on
moreso with every day with him
and oh!
that is too much for me to bear.

But I can't write poems.
And you are most likely
very tired
by this choppy bit of writing here.
So I will stop
and leave you with the great mystery
and glory.

It is worth pondering.

- Ariel J | January 2014