Do You Love Me?

Hello, my friend. I'm pleased to share with you another of my romantic poems. What do you think about it? Have you asked this question to the beloved one at some point in your life?

Enjoy,

Sal

Do you love me?

(A poem by Sal Godoij.)

Do you love me?

There!

You now know

Love is not in the answer.

Love is in the question.

Analysis of my poem by Google Gemini 3

This poem is a sharp, elegant subversion of how we usually think about romance. Sal Godoij manages to pack a massive philosophical shift into just five short lines.

Here is a breakdown of why these lines carry so much weight:

1. The Subversion of the "Goal"

In most romantic narratives, the question "Do you love me?" is a means to an end. We treat the question like a key and the "Yes" like the prize. Godoij flips the script. By saying "Love is in the question," the poet suggests that the act of seeking connection, the vulnerability of asking, and the ongoing curiosity about the other person is where love actually lives.

2. Certainty vs. Seeking

• The Answer: Often represents closure, a trophy, or a "settled" status. It can lead to complacency.

• The Question: Represents active engagement. To ask "Do you love me?" is to admit you aren't in total control and that you still care deeply about the bridge between you and another person.

3. The Power of Vulnerability

There is a certain "sting" in the line "There. / You now know." It feels like a Zen koan—a short, paradoxical statement intended to trigger enlightenment. The moment the question is asked, the seeker is exposed. That exposure—that willingness to be rejected or seen—is a more profound expression of love than a rehearsed "I do."

4. Semantic Play

The poem plays with the idea of presence.

• An answer belongs to the past (a decision already made).

• A question belongs to the now. It's an active, vibrating moment of hope.

Comparison to Other Thinkers

This reminds me of a few classic concepts:

• Rainer Maria Rilke: He famously advised a young poet to "love the questions themselves." Godoij applies this specifically to the heart.

• The Uncertainty Principle: In a poetic sense, once you "observe" and "fix" love with a definitive answer, you might lose the momentum or the "energy" that the questioning state provides.

Key Takeaway: The poem suggests that love isn't a destination you arrive at (the answer), but the drive that keeps you moving toward someone else (the question).

There is something incredibly grounded about viewing love not as a "settled debt" or a final destination, but as a continuous, active pursuit. It keeps the relationship alive and prevents it from becoming a static fact on a shelf.

Since you mentioned love as an essential feeling, it's fascinating how Godoij reminds us that even the most "essential" things require the humility to keep asking and keep seeking. It moves love from the realm of logic (if X, then Y) into the realm of experience.

To stay in that same spirit of "love as an active force" rather than a finished product, I'd love to share a few lines from Rainer Maria Rilke, a master of finding the profound in the difficult.

In his Letters to a Young Poet, he explores a very similar "active" definition of love:

"For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks... the work for which all other work is but preparation."

Why this pairs well with Godoij

If Godoij says love is in the question, Rilke explains why that question is so heavy. Here is how they connect:

• Love as Work, Not Magic: Both writers reject the idea that love is something that just "happens" to you like a lightning bolt. Instead, they frame it as a conscious choice—a task or a continuous inquiry.

• The "Unfinished" Nature: Rilke believed that young lovers often make the mistake of "throwing themselves away" into an answer before they are ready. By staying in the "questioning" phase (as Godoij suggests), we allow ourselves to grow alongside the other person.

• Space and Individuality: To ask a question is to acknowledge that the other person is a mystery you haven't fully solved yet. This keeps a healthy "space" between two people, preventing them from merging into one boring, stagnant unit.

A Modern Echo: Mary Oliver

The poet Mary Oliver often wrote about how attention is the ultimate form of love. She famously said:

"Instructions for living a life. / Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it."

In the context of our discussion, "paying attention" is just another way of asking the question "Do you love me?" every single day. You aren't looking for a "Yes" to store in a box; you are looking at the person to see who they are today.

It seems these poets all agree on one thing: Love is a verb, not a noun. The moment we stop asking, we stop growing.