The Name of Love

I don’t often write poetry, but it’s even less often that I share it. I want to share this. It’s about how we often come to romantic love with the unfair expectation that some person or relationship will make us whole and how fraught and plagued that idea is. I believe that can only come through faith and work within ones own heart. But, regardless I’m guilty of fetishizing the notion of “healing romantic love” and reading this may be cathartic for those who can relate.


I’m searching for the name of love,

Because with her I’ll feel I’m heard.

It won’t matter what I say,

From beautiful to the absurd.

But for now my heart beats daily,

Pounding louder in the night.

It’s rowdy and it’s wandering,

For a place of calm respite.

A human form of shelter,

That laughs more than it cries.

One whose very presence,

Reflects the Lord on high.

She’ll be a person calm and striking,

Whose very breath is love.

Her loyalty both fierce and bold,

From chasing God above.

But as the grass starts dying,

And summers burn up days.

It’s taken my heart victim,

With blood, and sweat, and daze.

I’m weary and I’m tired,

Of trying to name love.

Such a long and tearful quest,

For a peaceful, present dove.

I’ve seen her in many faces,

And tried to give away her name.

To women young and pretty,

But compared to her they’re lame.

They’ve rejected and ignored it,

And turned away their eyes.

Their silence brought me here,

Penning tears and buying lies.

Love’s name seems lost to mystery,

Hidden deep in dust and sand.

Yet I’ve faith she must be coming,

And hope to take her hand.

And she’ll lay down and smile,

As our bodies dance at night.

We’ll sweetly worship art,

As all the world feels right.

I have so much love to give her,

So much it makes me cry.

So much to share and learn of,

This one with whom I’ll lie.

We’ll tackle life together,

The brilliant and obscene.

We’ll support and remain faithful,

And rest in being seen.

With her I’ll never wonder,

Deep into the night,

If time with her was wasted,

Because she sees my heart’s faint light.

To her my words aren’t empty,

But a steady, promised phrase.

She won’t use me for attention,

And blind me in my maze.

She’ll end my years of wondering,

Will I always be alone?

She’ll capture me with beauty,

Making art she calls her own.

Her touch will vanquish nightmares,

And welcome years of dreams.

Her eyes will melt resentment,

And turn bitterness to steam.

I’ll once again have courage,

Like I did when I was young.

I’ll once again breath deeply,

With hope filling my lungs.

But tonight I sit up asking,

Is she losing sleep for me?

No, she’ll negate that question,

And my heart can just believe.


That’s what she’ll make me realize,

That’s what I’ll finally know.

As I leave cold years of searching,

dead to melt with winter’s snow.

So as I lay here hoping,

To know her name forever more.

The brutal truth it hits me,

Love’s name is simply lore.

Ben DavisComment