by Mathew Paust

Love heals.

Lovers know this from the start,

Yet they may not know with certainty

What love is.

Not that it matters especially

When they find the magic within the power

Of unfolding lust,

Of redemption,

Of unmitigated joy.

There's a mutual recognition

In the eye to eye surrendering

To trust,

To promise,

To the unimaginable other.

And when all is gone its memory remains

To wield the rage,

Reminding the heart

What love is.