Love is stronger.
Water is a drop,
on its own,
insubstantial and as
ethereal as dew
fallen on grass.
Almost weightless,
its translucent form
at half a gram,
hardly bears
our notice.
At a spit
we hardly register it,
a handful
we raise our face
to feel the grace of its caress.
Its pressure,
finally gaining at
the onset of a shower,
at which we might
then unfold our shelter.
Love is stronger.
Water, as a river,
its weight combined in force
has the power
to carve out ravines
in mountains.
And water, in a wave,
with its weight behind it,
is able over time
to break rocks
to smithereens.
Water, in its softness,
belies its very strength,
when with gentle touch
we feel it run
through fingers.
But water, in abundance,
has the power to awe,
as we watch it
unfurl over rocks
in a waterfall.
Love is stronger.
Yes, love that mimics water
is in the snow
whose weight breaks
the branches
of the pine.
And love that resembles
a river,
is in the Spring rains
that engulf the
thirsty land.
And love that overcomes
is in the kiss
of a mother goodnight,
multiplied
a million times.
And love that drives out dark
is in the wave that
bears the goodwill
of nations
behind it as a flood.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2019
Living Tree Poetry 