When I was deployed to Kosovo, I got this poetry book. It’s got 366 poems and it’s meant to be read everyday. Poetry Daily. One poem a day for a whole year. Since I wasn’t keeping a journal at the time, I decided to use the poetry book as a way to organize my thoughts. Mostly, I just wrote in the margins my thoughts on the poem of the day. Sometimes I just underlined words or poem bits that I liked.
There was a lot going on then. My world was upside crazy. Batshit crazy. I spent a lot of time thinking about things. Life. Love. How nice it was to not have to do my own laundry. How much I missed cooking my own dinner. How weird it was to sleep in a twin sized bed and share a bathroom with 25 other women.
I flipped through the poetry book yesterday and found this, from January 24, 2007, on page 398 next to a poem called “Ballad” by Sonia Sanchez:
Is there a moment, some span of time that we are just right for love? Are we ever too young for love? Are first crushes at 12 and 13 nothing really because we are far too young for such an adult thing? Does sex cause this? Why is sex so wrapped up in love? But what about being too old? Too old to learn to love? I think love just is. Love exists when and how it wants to, regardless of age or situation – love just exists, purely for its self – no one else. It enters when it feels like it, regardless of how inappropriate or rude it may be, and then, when tired of its own self, it leaves. Quietly. So quietly you might not even have heard it close the door on its way out. Sometimes it stays, sometimes it doesn’t. Love just is. It is beyond definition, beyond limitations, expectations and qualifications. Love is Love.
It’s weird that I wrote this. I have no memory of writing it down. No recollection of what my current mood or state of mind was. Sure, there was some love shit going on in my life, but I didn’t expect to look back and seem so okay with everything. I guess peace comes when we least expect it.