Our Love Is Enough

by Darryl Price


To stop the world from exploding

Like Krypton. It has to be.

Like purple flowers we're there on  

Burnt battlefields. It raises its flag,


Too, and continues the march toward

The dreaming sun in spite of

All the smoke and ash this

World has to offer. Our Love


Is enough to weather the ice

Cold precipitation of all loud hateful

Partiers above and below the radar

Of Kind thinking. It has to


Be. Our Love is enough to

Set free the zoo animals. Our

Love is enough to protect the

Creature that contains all sea creatures


From irreparable harm. It has to

Be. Our love is enough to

Filter the smog into breathable air

Again. Our love is enough to


Write the poems that witness the

Whole truth and not just some

Of the lies that are bought

And sold on the nightly news


Like used cars. It must be.

Our love is enough to turn

Back the four horsemen and their

Spaceships, turn them back into constellations,


Back into fireflies. Our love is

Enough to ensure that walls and

Bridges are there to welcome strangers

And not to incite greedy tendencies.


It has to be. Our love

Is there to remind us to

Always be creative givers. Our love

Is enough. Our love is enough.dp

Bonus poem:

You by Darryl Price


You are here. You've been away. The door

Is always open. The bed is always made.

And you. You have seen the wave. You

Of the hand, you of the giant wave

In the middle of the lonely night, weighed

Down like a top heavy branch of apples.

And you with your skinny legs trying desperately

To fill out your stride. You with your


Blazing mane full of sparklers. You with a

Sad fist full of musical instruments. You on

A bicycle in the park in the rain.

We were lighter than air, riders zooming in

And out of the trees like swooping birds,

Scooping up more wind than air. Those were

Such foolish days. Our eyes were painted with

All our dreams. It didn't matter what they


Called us. Some words cut so deeply they

Can never be removed again. I never wanted

To be a part of their hate, even

The high hate that never forgets a thing.

It still reeked of something inevitably cold to

The core. You are gone. You are somewhere

In your life. The wall between us is

Quite a masterful work of art. I don't


Care. It doesn't make me feel anything. You

Might as well be snoring. You were such

A beautiful dancer. You are there I suppose.

I don't think I could ever forget your

Squeal that came out of the sides of

Your pouting mouth like a playful dolphin asking

For its fish reward. And you with the

Falling hair like a small abandoned voting booth  dp