I love you even when

Loving you in sunshine is no art;

you have taught me what I know of joy.

But you should know I love you even when . . .

I love you even when I don’t know how to tell you,

when all I say is too flat, too late, too little --

when my wise heart knows more than my lame tongue.

I love you even when I feel unworthy of your love,

when I see my faults so clearly, and find I miss so much,

and learn how you are hurt by some of what I miss.

I love you even when I feel unready

to be all that you need me to be,

to give all it takes to love perfectly.

I love you even when I just begin to know

what it means to love and be loved,

with you so far ahead of me in such knowing.

I love you even when it hurts to love you,

when your voice accuses and your words wound;

I can’t stop loving you and looking for our misplaced grace.

I love you even when I see time’s toll

and sense we are both less and more than once we were;

I love the once and future you.

I love you even when griefs gather

like last season’s leaves before the door,

and sorrows move in to share our home.

I love you even when I cannot measure

the eternity before us and the joy

that may be ours to find, and keep.

I love you ever when and now;

loving you is so much of what I am;

I love you even when you think I don’t.