The One Recurring Response

All prayers–
even the wild and savage ones–
point to the one
recurring response:
Yes, its always love.

But its never the love
you think you know.

There is a love
made of brick
that lays truth
upon truth
to build a wall
against the lie.

There is a love
made of iron
that pries open
the prison bars
of fear
that isolates.

There is a love
spun of silken thread,
a chrysalis
where the caterpillar
must waste itself–
a sacrifice forgotten
in astonishing beauty.

Then, what of the love
yet to find form,
to sway this day–
the love that will make
of you and me
us?

by Susan McBride Els