love slow

There’s a trap we’ve all set for ourselves

in our pendulum lives.

Crushing needs. Administered by two types 

of moments that we can all read,

like the wearied patterns on the backs

of hunted hands.

Humankind is prey in prayer—

from birth

we breathe

between parentheses.

(Left when the world appears to be holding its own/

and right where it caves in.)

Impetus, idolatry, our ideals—collaborate

to lure dreamers towards this impulsive sway.

I hope someone you find 

may find you—

in the middle of it all

and hold you there.

An exhaustive momentum designs

love as a question of being caught. 

A touch that, beneath bone, knows you,

soothes you, slows you,

identifies that soulful stillness

breeds a validating serenity.

© Mollie Mardel