Love/Hope

Who are you? You must ask yourself,
daily, dowsing yourself in self-doubt
at this strange acquaintance, not-yet-love
that you met on the net one crazy night.

When the stars shone down, and Gods
nodded, perhaps sleepily, perhaps in approval,
that the chance boy loved your country,
and the slightest sound of your voice.

Every hair on your head is a mystery,
every uncharted space of your body
imagined from a photograph, every gasp
emitted fabricated from a recording you left.

I imagine you and myself in a restaurant
chatting of this and that, and my mind’s
blockaded by anxiety that this could all end
before we even meet, how tragic that would be.

Yet hard emotion takes over, and I know
this will happen, we’ll hijack everything
to make sure it is so, to guide that missile
toward its goal, as hope is hope,
and love is love, and hope is love.

JRTF
26/07/14