If There Is Love

If there is love
that will hold up,
it will carry a brown candle
and smell of sandalwood.

It will reach up to the top shelf
when asked and pull down
an old, soft-worn blanket
to cover up against November.

If there is love
it will not be blind, but in fact
will have uncommon night vision,
will be able to see through and around.

It will not flinch from weeping
at the horrid sight of failure
real or imagined.  It will seek
gold in ruined streams.

If there is love
it will have rough hands
when grip is needed, soft hands
when it is time to let go.

If there is love
it will be small, will find shelter
in a pocket and will travel unbidden
to wherever the journey goes.

It will have a face.  It will
have no need of a name
and will not come when called,
will appear before it’s called.

Love, supple crutch; it will not
do the expected when it is needed.
It will bend as you bend.  It will stiffen
as you stiffen.  It will not hold you up

but it will fall with you, rise
when you choose.  If there is love
you will know it is there
only if you do not feel the most lonely

when you are most alone.