i want to marry you in blue

blue,
as still
water
in a cobalt clay cup
as tenderness
and passion
in blue seas
with salts and stars on our skins
i want to marry you
and when i say marry i mean our lips
to merge
into a kiss, a vow,
an oath
and your eyes taking me in
and your hands
our temple, our world
i want to marry you in blue
moonlight 
our bodies dressed

and undressed
in blue moonlight
clothed from the ineffable
in love, purity and fidelity
in my blue eyes, your blue dreams
and ours
in the bluish eye of flame
forever and again
i want to marry you

About the poem:

Something romantic, something blue, woke me up in the middle of last night, to be written. I’ve learned it is helpful to have a piece of paper and a pen beside the bed.

I want to marry in white. With the sound of sea, with bare feet on the sand. When I think of places I’ve loved at first sight, loved them in my entirety, I think of Santorini, I think of Positano. Whites and blues, with fuchsia flowers and wild roses. I can’t imagine not living by the sea, for it is a true love of mine. Like my prince of blue. And love … ah love, sweet love. It is everything. It is a temple for you and I, our little world. His hands are my church, skins are prayers. Love is sacred as prayer. Forever and then again. Then, now, always. 

Speaking of Positano, and photographed below was my last night spent there, the legend goes that God Poseidon fell in love with a mortal girl and wanted to build her a place on Earth worthy of heaven – and worthy of his love for her. And so he built Positano. So that she’d always be surrounded by her beloved sea, by the beauty of flowers and by the mountains around her that would protect her when he is away (and perhaps mainly because he only wanted her for himself – that’s how Gods loved).

They say if you go down to Positano’s beach at night, if you are truly in love, you will hear the sirens’ songs. For only the ears of true lovers can hear such heavenly sounds.

And the night beach is the best place to be, at least for me, it’s all mine, ours. I mean honestly … if I ever meet a man who makes me feel the way Positano makes me feel, I’d marry him in a heartbeat.

Positano is a feeling, a place – immortal and life-sized. Santorini felt the same. And all the little remote islands in the Cyclades felt that way too. Little places where you can get lost, and private, and all loved up in your devoted sacred love life.  

As for the tradition of “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue” to be worn on the wedding day: blue symbolized love, purity and fidelity, upon which the solid foundations of marriage can be built. In the old days, brides would wear blue garter belts under their dresses, though nowadays, they experiment with blue hair, blue nails, blue shoes, and on and on and on. Whatever you do though, do it for love, of love, with love.    

The cover art is watercolour and oils painting by my beautiful mom, who is truly talented, and knows how to capture the shifting scenes of the enormous and meaningful within the perfection of simplicity.

My Nights in Positano, Italy

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