There are things that cannot be captured
by a conglomeration of words
into a narrative or a parable,
graces of the world that retain their ineffable qualities
despite our efforts to contain them

There are those of us, and I am one,
that try to write ourselves into existence,
who cannot make sense of a child dying
before falling in love, or of two figures meeting
at the foot of a statue to exchange sorrows
and share gifts of compassion and hope

There are times I am overwhelmed
by how many people I miss,
and by how beautiful your lips are
on a cold March night,
pale with the moon while they give life
to your city beneath your feet

I’ve written many stories,
and now a poem,
all of it trying to say,
quite simply,
I love you.