I fear,

the love that I’ve been blessed with,

may never come

to those I hold most dear.

It grieves my soul

that love so far has flown by,

where empty hearts quietly await.

I’ve watch

the anguish of those pilgrims

who seized

too early or not wisely, empty love.

Mistaking wants

and loneliness for substance

then losing all,

bereft and stony bare.

Love has

so many faces to deceive us.

The old are tricked.

The young defenseless

against the lures of beauty,

strength, wit and arts’ seductive powers.

Tempting baits

for us poor nature driven beasts.

How then

to find love, recognize and seize it.

Woo, promise,

give and then live past

the troubled learning times.

Through the

fast rapids and whirlpools of life’s river.

To reach

the goal we seek,

a tranquil lake.

David Garlick, Victoria, December, 1994

Why is it that some men find it difficult,

if not almost impossible, to say, I love you?

It is not that the words are not there,

It is simply that the mouth refuses to say them!

We feel love, we know love,

we think that we understand love

but our mouths refuse to acknowledge it.

There seems to be a block,

perhaps even a fear of admitting love.

No, the words want to spill out

but falter at the moment of uttering –

that which is so obvious but also

too precious to spill.

Is this fear of ridicule, as in childhood?

Is it the fear of rejection?

Is it the fear of weakness?

Of being obvious,

of being a parrot,

of expecting a reply,

of fearing that reply.

of fearing the unheard laughter?

The paradox is that women

live to hear these words;

perhaps expect them,

understand them,

long for them.

Are even drugged by them.

Do they not fear giving away

so important a word?

They seem able to say

what is almost impossible for men

but they also have the power to retract

this word, held as a lure

close to their tongues.

As a future reward or a torture?

If it is easy to say these words

to a dog or cat, why then this

problem of sharing them with a loved one?

Love is not something in short supply,

nor lost by acknowledgement.

Perhaps the fear is that the phrase

may become callused with over use

and so blunted as to have no edge.

Perhaps it is a fear of losing

the ability to love, the ability

to feel the sting behind eyes,

the surge in your heart,

the joy in your mind.

The fear of an all –

encompassing vacuum.

Then again, is it the fear of losing love?

Of fearing that it may be taken away, lost, never to be returned; as in death

or stolen like a favorite book,

if it is too often repeated?

A phrase that is vulnerable, yet still

needing to be shared to be fully realized.

I have written all these words and still

My lips hold back from saying out loud.

That, I love you.

David Garlick, Sidney, January, 2005