What do I say when I’m asked to classify my love?
There is no one way to simply describe the beating of my chest.
You must reach out and feel it, hear it—
hear that it follows no determined path.
My love is like the wind blazing through a raging fire,
an awakened cycle of flames catching all around, spreading until it has transcended the earth’s surface.
My love is like the melodic air blowing out of an aged saxophone, smooth yet spontaneous. It is art creating art.
My love is like the merging of lovers’ footprints as they walk what seems to be an endless road. A slight bumping of shoulders guiding one another. It is inseparable.
If you could hold it in your hands,
it would crawl into the gaps between your fingers,
latch on,
and never let go.
My love remains, even when I can’t.
It is devoted.
Like a pet to its lifelong owner,
a writer to their favorite pen,
or a musician to their first instrument.
And as I grew to know it well,
this love,
I put an end to my search for a label.
And began placing hands on my heart,
hoping they will instead see my soul,
as alive as it is,
and understand it has no definite name.
Lincey Bazile is a student at Bunnell High School, entering her senior year. She loves staying active and is on the varsity volleyball team and track and field team, which she is captain of at BHS. She enjoys reading and writing (especially poetry) and owns her own blog. She is passionate about mental health advocacy, community involvement, and working with children, and represented Stratford as the 2025 Barnum Festival Princess.
