I love talking about love.
Love is wide blue sky simplicity, and ocean deep complexity. Love is low burning when pain comes stalking cold, and love consumes in passion, wild and white.
Love is a loosening of a grip, and love is when there’s just no other reason for staying.
Love is easy when we are free
Hard when we are slaves
Fragile when we are hurt
Stronger when we have forgiven
It’s one of those resilient qualities that won’t be destroyed.
And of all love’s many capabilities, two stand planted like oaks by a river.
Rises predictable like the sun, and we find out that love isn’t just feeling, but fought for. We don’t always know this when we are young. Then we become mothers and suddenly love pulses strong through our veins and we would turn warring oppressor before surrendering our young.
Where the thing we once pursued becomes the pursuer, and just like that, we are caught. Like that vulnerable place where, for all the strength you believe yourself capable of, the only thing that will mean anything is an all out rescue.
I’ve always wanted to be rescued
I still do
Then love becomes something that overcomes us. And sometimes we choose to submit to it, an uncommon choice, because there are some things only revealed to poets about roads less traveled that compel us towards a risky path.
And we understand the thing about love’s resiliency so that, in an act of vulnerability, we leave the soft spots unguarded for love to access. The risk is real, there could be pain.
[…] is also the love I keep to myself-the stuff that has to be filtered appropriately before leaving my mouth. Like when […]
Provoking and sweet!