AN EASTER POEM: IT IS TIME

We are born to love and be loved.  Our brain is literally wired for love.  But it doesn't take much for us to begin protecting ourselves from love.  It begins very early, sometimes from the beginning.

  We are all imperfect parents, and sometimes we unwittingly abandon our children, sometimes with the good intentions of teaching them life's lessons, not knowing that the lesson we teach is to protect yourself from love.  As parents, in a moment of frustration, we have all said something like, "After all the terrible things you said to me, including that you hate me, and now, you want me to give you a hug?  Really?  Maybe tomorrow!" 

  I know, for myself, my almost 70 year journey continues.  I continue to learn how deeply I have buried my heart and my soul to protect them both from what seems to be the pains of love.  The reality is that love is not painful.  Love is wonder filled.  But by the time we get to a place in our life when we can experience mature love with another adult human being, our heart and soul have been wounded so many times that we begin to believe that love is painful.  I for one do not believe it is, but only when I am willing to believe that love is not dangerous, not fickle, nor costs too much, will I have the opportunity to experience and believe that love is wonder filled.  And I'm getting there, thanks to special people. 

There is a secret

Deep inside the crevices,

The crevices of my heart,

Deep beneath the oceans,

The oceans of my soul,

A secret even to myself.

It lies there hidden, buried,

Like so many shipwrecks,

Painful inexplicable losses,

Battles lost,

Lost against unforeseen storms,

Unpredictable

By even a wise sage.

     I have no memory, the day my soul saw

How pointless to simply batten down,

Batten down the hatches.

      “We are closing all the windows,” she said.

“Every door, any opening at all,

Where we might feel something,

Something painful, powerful,

Something beyond our grasp.”

I have no memory when that was,

Only this morning,

As I wrote about tomorrow (Easter),

When this grand fortress constructed

Over the course of seventy years,

Mysteriously rose to the surface

Like a sunken ship filled with ghosts.

I just stood there, amazed, surprised,

But recognizing it belonged to me.

Not sure what to do with this grand precious
Relic to my past,

But I know it is time

To open all the doors,

To open all the windows,

To allow the winds of life to blow

To blow through any opening at all,

So I can truly feel,

Feel whatever there is to feel,

So I can truly love You.

So I can truly be loved by You.