The Slow Yes

Sometimes no explanation is required

I knew you the way morning knows the light,
gently, and all at once.
There was no moment of deciding;
my heart had already said your name.

And still we come to each slowly, love,
not because the feeling is small,
it is the largest thing we carry,
but because we carry other things as well:

The years that taught me what love is not,
the long mornings of standing alone.
So when my step is careful, know this:
it is not distance. It is devotion.

It is the tenderness of someone
who knows exactly how rare you are,
who has watched doors close without warning
and holds this one open with both hands.

I am not testing you. I never was.
I am only asking time, softly,
to be kinder to us than it has been,
and I believe, with you, it will.

So let us be certain and unhurried,
sure of each other, easy in the waiting,
for a love that knows its own true depth
can afford to climb the stairs hand in hand.

And when the last of our caution melts,
as it is melting, even now, in our warmth.
we will not say we hesitated.
We will say we made sure the ground was real,

And then we built upon it, unafraid,
a home with room enough for both our hearts.