A Love Poem

May the sun and the earth care for you.
May the rocks and the wind and the noise,
the rhythm and the leaves,
may they care for you.
May the stars and your steps
and mistakes of the world
care for you.
May the dirt and the rust
carry you through.
May the fights of the ones you don't know,
may the stray dogs' paths
and spring allergies,
machines, and fingers of the ones I've not known
and the dread of those I have
carry you.
May the wine and the past,
the eternal seasoning of things
and wasted spices,
the traded everything
and the misgivings of attempted love
and mathematics,
implicit in nothing,
care for you.
So that I don't.
May you take it all.
Races and cut hair,
ancient lands and feminists.
Take the food shortages, love.
Take the kids that torture insects.
Take the unborn and the lies in arguments.
Take the abstractions,
the reductionism,
the wrath, love, the sense of sight.
Take the grandparents' treats.
Take my fear.
Take my song.
You are of the world.

To Pablo