nothing special happen

That moment I said yes to love
nothing special happened.
The bus arrived as scheduled,
squirrels searched for food, in trees,
in garbage. Some crossed the street,
some died. People glued to tiny screens,
some watched, some never cared.
Then love finally came
again as it always come, asking
are you willing?

Are you willing?
Flower gave away pollen,
Winds carried unspoken prayers written
on dried burning leaves.
Maples turned colours, in the woods,
in parking lots. Some seeds grew,
some died; natural as it has
always been, nothing special.

Will you love
when nothing special happened?

Nothing special happened.
So you go to the gym, twice
a week, as usual. Maybe run a
half marathon, occasionally.
People crossed your path,
and you theirs, as if walking
on fire, some on black ice.
Season over season, some remembered
some forgot. Then love came again
gently, as it has always been, asking
do you still love?

By Gracelynn Lau (Oct 20, 2019)

[This is my aesthetic response to the massive movement in Hong Kong. My dear sister asked me to write about shalom. I said yes, and in turn, the words started writing me.]