I wrote the last poem
it spoke of yearning – again
it sailed brisk joy describing hopefully
it treated the animal inside kindly
in fact, entreated it, “come out”
it waited for something to happen
it rushed to the brink and yelled across the chasm
it welcomed echo and continued to listen
long after echo settled down
the last poem, finally, also, settled down
to the business of thinking, “now what shall I do?”
and the answer, again, was “love.”

So you think love a useless word?
love is stone obdurate and ancient as sand
love is a boulder of sharp-edged really-there
there are forms in raw rock, beauties that lie within
without knowing what will come of it
take up heavy tools prospect for gifts to give

those gifts take the form of silence
trust,  touch , and tears

put your shoulder to love, my friend
it is heavy, can take all your weight
push against its resist
it will not fall away
until you have no need of
anything at all

Poem and Photograph by Jo Mariner