After Two Decades, A Visit From Erato

Erato is one of the nine Greek muses; those writing lyric poetry would invoke her and ask for her divine help in expressing their deep emotion and love.

I have not written love poetry for well over twenty years, and so I don't know why Erato chose to visit me yesterday...during a skating rink outing with my daughter, no less...

But I heed the call anyway.  Here goes:

Mostly these days, I
answer to demands
of home, family,
and a tiresome job.
I read labels, plan
sensible dinners,
write checks to the
PTA.  To most,
I appear upbeat,
reliable...but
these things?  Diversions.
They occupy a
restless space.  You see,
when there are no more
cupcakes to bake, or
errands to run, or
people to amuse,
I think of freedom,
a life of color.

You wait for me in
the near-dark before
you tumble forward,
like air, like rain, like
sun.  Your eyes read like
a book - one that brings
me comfort and love.
Whispers in the dark,
sounds I've known always,
bring me to your arms.
I long to feel real,
unencumbered, free.
Me, but yet, not me.

Your hands move where I
wish them to be, your
lips say words newly
formed in my brain, you
smile just a heartbeat
before me.  Time stops.

I want to feel as
if we created
time, space, earth, life.  Then,
I want to believe
you would give up these
as well, if I asked.

What matters most here?
Jobs?  Obligations?
No.  None of these are
without passion or
purpose or meaning.

Thus, I am impelled,
bounding, towards you.


ευχαριστώ, Erato.