Saint Valentine peers over earth on February 14th.
‘How am I being celebrated today, I wonder?’ He ponders.
His wonder is struck by the boom of a new love –
a love so pure,
a love that could cure.
Valentine finds it fascinating,
until he leans closer,
and finds it belongs to a young Scottish girl
and her packet of chocolate digestives.
He rubs his temple in disappointment,
mumbling something about ‘the youth of today.’
And maybe he was right.
He can only count on one finger the amount of times
anyone has dipped a chocolate digestive into a cup of tea
and their heart has screamed into the stars
that they’re in love.
Or maybe… he’s not looking hard enough.
His lips have never felt the satisfaction of just catching a digestive
after dunking, right before it crumbles.
Or the sickly warmth of the melted chocolate against your tongue.
Even cuddling the warm mug into your palms on cold days,
reminding them they will hold again.
If Valentine watched our earth for a day,
I’d like to see him soften.
He would see things that are so breathtakingly human:
grandparents holding grandchildren,
the little half smile strangers give,
friends learning how to click their fingers
and pulling push doors.
He would discover pride parades,
how we are born knowing how to sing happy birthday,
feel the warmth of screaming eighties songs in your friend’s faces,
despite it all, despite it all,
We keep breathing, and breathing, and breathing.
Love holds the earth’s hand and twirls her underneath.
The two of them will waltz forever.
Yes, there will be pain – there are days so painful
We detest the world for giving us breath.
Chocolate digestives do crumble and fall if you leave them in boiling water too long.
But a little burn is good.
A little burn will soften you.
A little burn promises life is here and she wants to make a home out of you.
Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I must go buy more chocolate digestives.
Because no matter how many times
and crumble into boiling hot tea,
We keep dunking them in anyway.