Oh, My cousin, if I could steal away your every hurt
and let your heart beat more easily,
I would. But this is love.
Love must be felt, endured, grown and lost.

Look at a coin, imagine that it were to flip
and disappear
because it had only one side.

Love is that coin.

My Cousin, if I could tell you some truth
about healing, that would save you this suffering
I would. But this is love.
and the wounds will become more love
if you let them.

Imagine the words, “never again”
hanging on the hilt of a sword over  your heart
every time you speak them, the sword swings lower.

How hard is it to tell the sword,
“Again, swing, again. I love you?”

My Cousin, if I could show you where your true love waits
I would. Oh, yes, I would. But
this is love.
Only patience and kindness and honesty can show you that path.

Imagine a lighthouse, on rocky island,
and the light is fueled by passion and hope and dreams
lost love dims this light and all those ships that come towards you
risk the rocks. Now it is the deepest night
your light is dim, rest. Tomorrow, walk the beach,
watch the sunrise, watch the gulls fight over crabs,
read some poetry and sing sad songs until your heart overflows
and you laugh.

When the night comes again, your love will be saved.
your love will be found.

My cousin, every heart breaks
a thousand ways, a thousand times,
it is no small thing to dream again
of love.

But every love becomes us, more truly and
more truly still. Every passion, every word, every prayer to God,
defines our love, and in every love  we grow more true.