from your tongue...
Meticulous
Love is a noble endeavor without definition,
an elastic word that drools from your tongue.
A guttural cry forced out in the wilderness,
kicking the womb's wall that returns no sound.
Love's sorrow is the unseen face of greatness
In circumspection, birth is immanent and perpetual.
You may cry from joy, laugh with illiteracy and
both may serve some meticulous purpose, but
some, when Israel is reborn, die. And they smile
for death and the divine days of struggle.
Deborah Russell, © 2006
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