Philia

I want to love.

I want to love with the kind of love that shows on my body;

After the days and years have taken their bites of me,

There will still be memories of my people

Dancing across my skin.

I want to see wrinkles fold around my eyes,

To accomodate a thousand full-face smiles,

I want to see my lips droop,

Tired after a million moments of laughter.

I want to see my knuckles swell

for every meal made to gather around,

And every loop of yarn stitched to cover us in warmth.

I want to feel my wrists ache from every handshake

that turned into a new piece of my heart.

I want to hear my knees creak for every time

we stooped down to help each other up from the shadows.

I want to see my hands and feet calloused,

To remember the work I did for others,

and every mile walked in their shoes;

The same work that hardened my palms

Kneading my heart into a beating, living thing.

I want to love,

Because to live is to love,

And if I'm going to die,

I might as well love on the way.

My body will weather and age all the same,

So let it be in the name of love.