On Finding Love

A poem by Joseph Hardy, December 2019

Joseph is one of a handful of writers that lives in Nashville, Tennessee that does not play a musical instrument; although a friend once asked him to bring his harmonica on a camping trip so they could throw it in the fire. His wife says he cannot leave a room without finding out something about everyone in it, and telling her their stories later. Joseph has a BS degree in psychology from Stanford University. His work has been published in Inlandia, Gyroscope, The Tiny Journal, Sheila-Na-Gig, Penultimate Peanut, and is forthcoming in Seven Circle Press, The Bookends Review, Poetry City, Reality Break Press, Glass Mountain, Funicular Magazine, Kind Writers, Pub House Books, and Crack the Spine Literary Magazine.

Not as moon-bathed miles
pass beneath in white noise
going home,

but in slow measures of a lullaby
we find without thinking,
the pace we walk

with a sick child in our arms,
the rhythm we were made
to give love and take love in,

setting sleep aside
to pick up our child
and walk the long runner in the hall

as a pilgrim walking
on a road to Mecca, walking
on a dusty road to Jerusalem.