Love is no Ritual

by You Have My Word

I wrote and performed this poem – high above the city – for the one my heart belongs to. Much love and gratitude to those who made this video possible.


If eyes could hold holiness, there is something sacred in the way you look at me. Some undoing of disbelief. Some taunting mystery beneath a sky the colour of words I cannot say:

I am here, with gentle hands and lips that have taught your tongue to pray. I am here, no longer the greater whole – dismantled stories, untold. I am here, coming apart gracefully – heavy with promises that keep their own word and therein lies their glory. I am here, stooped low in reverence, with words of worship within the walls of a sanctuary. A temple built from ruins.

And I know that love is no easy religion… for there is no ritual to guide the way in which we praise. There is no vigil, nor hymn, nor mantra. We are self-appointed saints reciting scripture skin and knees worn from nights of pleading. If faith is being sure of what we do not see… I have known miracle. You. Have unfurled your fists, learned to give up control, letting all go. You hold more when your palms are splayed to match the canvas of the light. You hold more when you aren’t clinging to everything you’ve ever known. Let all go. There is more.

In the whisper and the silence before the dawn… find stillness. Where before, your heart knew only a cave, now, see a city built within your chest. Higher than steeple or tower. A fortress. You are strong. You are refuge within high walls. You are masterpiece – a showcase of disaster and divinity.

Others will come, questioning everything holy, questioning everything sacred, questioning everything seemingly intangible, questioning everything their eyes cannot yet see. So meet me where the earth meets the sky. Come with open palms to mirror the sun – skin, ready for the weight of scripture to be burned in. They will witness the mystery…when they see the way you look at me.