The remembrance of quiet places in the heart where long ago love
still lingers in the warmth of strawberry blonde hair and the lithe desires
of gawky youth all brought to mind in the opening of an email.
And there you were, full blown into middle age like me, your life lived
in the thirty six years between high school and my response,
delicate history, cherished, even as the cruelty
of the past which arose from my inability to love you or anyone back then,
is as painful to me now as it was to you then - when I could do no more
than what I did, except now I'm allowed at last to say I was cruel because
I was damaged, and that I really did care except that I was so unable then.
These restorations of the heart's long sorrows dissolved through shared memory
are manna, gifts from love for love.
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