Some say love

            Is a blind angel of mercy

Sent to fill the emptiness

            Of a lonely human heart.

 

          She cares not the visage

                     Of her charges

          Nor the less savory faults that

                     Lie beneath their surface.

 

Love is said to be meant

            For love’s sake alone

To nurture and cherish

            Creating one from two.

 

          But love has eyes

                      Used far too often

          To reveal the darker nature

                      Of her affections.

 

The vine changes colors

            And looks different to the eye

But the roots that guide the soul

            Remain forever unchanged.

 

Yet love sees not the core

            But judges by the cover alone

Cowed by prejudices past learned

            And left to cry alone.

 

          Love thought deep

                      For years just floated

          Never knowing the limits

                      Of its own shallowness.

 

The vine grows still

            The roots cry out,

“I’m here!  I’ve not gone!”

            Desperate for appeal.

 

          But love has turned her back

                      Grieving for her loss,

          Unable to fight the past

                      And unwilling to even try.

 

      September 27, 1991