Untitled or What is love?
An addition to the great catalog of human work that has attempted to define it.
Untitled, or what is love?
On Saturday, J and J
came to my new home.
J came once before, but
J never had; and his
face opened like a
flower when he saw
me answer the door.
Then they filled my
house with their
prancing especially
J. He kicked up his
socks as if they were
hooves and he in a meadow.
He skipped about my
linoleum like a
merry goat on crags.
He held up his arms to
directly gallop on his
tippy toes into my arms.
His smile was JUST. SO.
DAMNED. BRIGHT. And
I thought: At my own
extinction if this is the
last memory I ever hold, then
I will go believing all
existence worth its price.
—written March 23, 2022 by Sarah Dzida
Author’s Note: I didn’t realize for many years that I’m a hopeful writer; I believe in the beauty of human existence and all its gifts. I think it’s because it’s these quiet moments that seem the most evident to me of those things, and poetry is one of the best ways to give them their spotlight.
I wrote a BOOK about poetry, friendships and Japan! You can read an excerpt here. You can buy it here.