AND IF                                                                                   

If there are moments when doubt spreads wide inside

and ploughs deep furrows across her brow,

take the hand of your lover and brush her fingers

through your hair and yours through hers

and watch summer colours reclaim her face,

chase away the pale of days once cold.

 

And if there is one who would cast you out

upon some manufactured calumny,

take the hand of your hunter and brush his fingers

across your chest and yours across his

and see the pain flow out of his eyes

on his awakening to the truth.

 

And if there are many whom you might fight,

who are told to fight you by another’s command,

take the hand of the first of them and show him

you have no weapon you may slay him with;

and say to the next that he who would have us fight

is not here and will never know us.

 

And if you become fearful with age or illness

and the light in your eyes starts to glaze,

take the hands of the young and celebrate their advent,

offering to add your wisdom to their fire;

for your tasks are the same and they will be

glad of your guidance when cold winds blow.

 

And if you need to leave this place, this sparkling jewel,

that drags you up then lets you ebb down, away,

take the hand of your lover and kiss each finger

to promise the end is yet to come; that you’ll

walk together the one-way track until all

talk of us is done and then forgotten.