It Is Possible to Love

by Ellie Musgrave

It is possible to love things about life
even in what feels like a slowly
suffocating cavern of darkness,
even when it might seem like
there are more bad things than good.

It is possible to love a swell of greenery
of my favorite part of the park,
at the perfect pre-sunset time
when the low light seems to catch
the delicate spines of leaves aflame –
this love most abundant among the
places I choose to call home.

It is possible to love a righteously good song
that uplifts even in its kitsch,
sending glorious synth triads and
wickedly good guitar arpeggios,
riffs unlike any before it –
this love, too, is possible, even when
it seems to have left the earth.

It is possible to love
and touch the hearts and souls
of others, even from afar; it is
possible to find love where you
least expect it; it is possible to love
and enjoy a languid or fierce romp
with a lover even in states of
what may feel like crippling grief:
getting stoned and laughing about
Mario Tennis on Nintendo 64, or
reading each other poems after
or before too much wine. It is all love,
it is all possible. It is all yours.

It is possible to love what once was
without letting its loss permeate
the joy of what it had been,
and the joy of getting to
experience it again in
memory. I will never again
play the piano on which I
learned to play, but it does
not detract from the time I
spent playing, learning, loving.

It is possible to love and have love left over,
love for yourself, love for other things
not receiving the glory of your
devotion, today. It is possible to
love all things at once – even that
which you might never stop to pay
attention to; you might never say out
loud, “I love the neon signs on
Flatbush in the rain,” or “I love the
long shadows on Scholes at sunset,”
especially if you’re not
looking at it right then and there –
you can carry that love around
in your subconscious and let it
surprise you when it shows up. “Oh,
I love Laura Dern,” after not having
seen her on your TV or phone
or computer for a while.

It is possible and probable that
humans will never know our boundaries
for love – it is possible that
there is so much to love that no
one person will ever get to it all.

It is possible. All is, in fact, full of love.

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