I have learned nothing of love

I have learned nothing of love.

Only perhaps that it glows brighter in the dark
That neither sharp-toothed malice
Nor the slow strong push towards the edge
Can ever plunge it to its death

I have learned nothing of love.

Only that neither open skies and whipping wind
Nor the driving rain nor desperate tug,
Nor snatching thorns or twining wood,
Can ever whisk it from your gentle hold.

I have learned nothing of love.

I still find it crumpled, torn, shoved in draughty cracks
Used as kindling, lining bins, grease-stained
Smudged, mouldy, sifted, drained, congealed –
In all my years, I have learned nothing of love.

 Only that when night falls and day will never wake
And you are ground and rotting in the ground,
When promises and lies bleed and blend –

 Then still it will be forever bright.