Closer than fear

Is there a way to hold a question? Not as close
as lust, closer than fear, arms closed to the

answer? Or is that the way the question holds
you? In this monsoon, as evening turns to night,

without drama, I try to write a love poem, without
tropes, without the moon, objectively — without

love. But too much is made of love which, like life,
is passion in passing, matter in transformational

happenstance: only this thought, born of thought,
nameless, formless, can last unchanged forever —

love like a question will outgrow your hands, learn
to walk, yearn to walk away: only this thought will

stay — that, for a while, love felt warm, like it
belonged, as if, for a while, it was the closest answer.

24 thoughts on “Closer than fear

  1. So many facets to love and life. Transience, depth, comfort, reason.
    A very contemplative poem Rajani

    Happy Sunday, enjoy the monsoon season, stay safe



  2. This feels dipped in eternity–that in-between, unlit space where all the possibilities are and then warms at the end to what comes to pass.


  3. This is incredibly gorgeous writing, Rajani! Especially love; “But too much is made of love which, like life, is passion in passing.” 💝


  4. Those last two lines just ache of wanting answers but being a bit afraid of them too…or simply finding out what you thought was the answer turned out to be just so much smoke and mirrors.


  5. Here’s a poem full of double meanings. Is too much laid at love’s feet, or are too many things made of love? I’ve had the little nuggets in retrospect and am now working on letting God’s love come through me. About the lust/fear options–let me offer a third: wonder. Wonder is another double meaning word, both of which hold love and me. Love this puzzle of a poem!


    1. Aah Susan, always the perfect reader who elevates the poem! Thanks so much! Indeed what will be without the questions, without wondering, without letting wonder fill us… !! Much of what we take for granted comes unstuck in the long monsoon!


  6. Sigh. So lovely, with such a beautiful closing. Loved the lines about love learning to walk, then walk away. Which, it seems, it so often does. “Yet, for a while, it felt warm, like it belonged.”


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