Saturday, February 6, 2016
It is unnerving
to be seen
when you fought so hard
of another identity.
One far less honest,
encumbered by fear,
prepared for abandonment.
One that did
whatever it took
not to be questioned,
One whose walls were
I hardly participated
in the building.
But there you were
with your questions
What do you see?
Perhaps you could tell
me because I have been hidden
so masterfully from myself
that the only knowing
I have comes
from my trusting in you.
Some lose themselves in love,
I found myself in your offering of it.
Humbled by acceptance,
embraced by your desire
not to love me,
but for me to.
You reflected my fears
and offered glimpses of truth
each time we danced between forever
Each time you touched me just
lightly enough to make known you were here.
Each time you didn't touch me at all--
in your spaciousness I was safe to be.
To collect and remember,
choose again, and always love.
As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/02/you-reminded-me-to-love-poem/
I can do forever.
I can choose you night after night
and each day when we wake together.
I can say yes every time
I look into your eyes
wordlessly assuring your heart.
I can trust in what
I know to be the sweetest details of you
and relish in what I get to see unfold in time.
I can evolve with you.
I can learn with you.
Or I can be nothing with you at all.
I can let you leave now
and be at once destroyed and set free.
I can be alone.
I can embed our friendship in my soul
and cherish your past presence.
I can smile at our memories,
I can release with each salty tear
an expectation I barely realized I had.
I can be entirely yours,
I can be completely not.
But I cannot flit between both.
I cannot dance with together and apart,
I cannot sustain my pulse with hope,
beating with a never resting numbness.
I cannot be at your mercy,
I cannot mirror your impulses,
be pushed only to watch you pull away. Again.
I am here if you are here,
I am gone if you are gone.
Let us love each other enough to choose.
I love you enough to choose.
I love you enough to leave.
And oh do I love myself enough to not have to guess.
As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/02/love-enough-to-choose-poem/
Thursday, February 4, 2016
I have heard far too often lately that love shouldn't be this hard--that when it is "right" it just falls into place. Not only is this so far from true, it is the very illusion that is responsible for the dissolution of many loves.
Love takes an immense amount of work. Not only do we need to build it brick by brick, but we need to form each one of those bricks with our bare hands and even more naked hearts. We need to construct them out of so many things that are not readily available to our guarded, expectant, disillusioned selves: trust, honesty, forgiveness, patience, perspective, a willingness to see and be seen, commitment, integrity. And we have to actively participate in the construction, not just hope that it happens as we go about living our lives.
I believe we came up with that idea--that love should be easy-- by how rapturous the initial falling can be. When our energy collides heart, soul, head on with another's, and the vibration propels us into a state we are sure is love. We get lost in the ecstasy, the potential, and allow ourselves the sweet buoyancy of drifting together. Until the sailing is not so smooth, and the collisions come instead as arguments, as unravellings, as revealings of true sides and questioning what it is you thought you once had. Because surely it shouldn't be this hard...
You know what they say about Rome? Same goes for love.
And how exquisite is Rome? Worth the efforts, I mean, the pizza alone…Seriously though, love that is worked for, that you truly gave yourself to the growth of, is satiating. That initial connection is real. Desire, lust, physical attraction all very, very real. Our bodies know something our minds and hearts have yet to figure out--that there is a reason you're drawn to someone. And that very reason is less connected to how that person feels entwined with you, and more to do with your souls connecting.
I recently learned the difference between a soul mate and a deeper connection (known as your twin flame for the serendipitous and synchronistic coming together with your own). While soul mates compliment each other, twin flames mirror each other. They are the embodiment of each others lessons, and strive to teach, guide, and grow with the other in love. You can have a handful of soul mates in your life that, in the ease of connection from similar likes, dislikes, ways of viewing the world, mannerisms, temperaments, vibrations, it feels like love with them. But I assure you, a soul mate does not mean a love match. Finding someone who challenges you, who makes you work to understand your own love and affection (for yourself and them), who is intentional and observant, inquisitive and blunt, and who might ebb and flow from your life--as twin flames can continue to grow together even apart-- but ultimately stays connected because, hey, there is work still to be done--there you might have love.
Do not shy away from the work. Although we cannot know forever any more than we can predict never in love, we needn't let fear, discomfort, or a lilt in our early stages of bliss to cause us to run. If anything, meet the dis-ease. You will know when there is something to work on or walk away from; you will know the difference between being abused, abandoned, falling for someone emotionally unavailable, and when the discomfort is simply from being seen more intimately than you have been. Meet the discomfort and be in it. You deserve to grow in love--to be brought to your highest self and to bring another to theirs.
Collect your bricks. Enjoy the process, the construction of your exquisite love story.
As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/02/love-takes-work/
Monday, February 1, 2016
were we ever?
Can you call it together when
our bodies spoke for the entirety of our beings?
I loved the way your capable
arms moved me where you wanted,
tossed me into a pile of sheets,
scooped me from myself
and into the intense illusion of "us."
These arms that my gentle figure
felt so safe in,
yet my heart felt so not.
So afraid to love you fully
for as soon as your hands loosened their grip
you were gone.
Vacant. So obviously lost
in the deception of our devotion.
I loved the language we created with our lips,
my lips at once willingly familiar to yours,
and the wildest of discoveries--
still I have never been kissed like that.
And still I can feel them part from mine
and your heated breathe flood
like steam to my mind
clouding my intuition
so that all I felt was the warm,
syrupy residue of you,
ignoring the detachment so much larger
than your flesh.
Until I couldn't ignore any longer
and neither could you.
Until our hands slipped apart
and we could step back,
clothed again in our fears
and the wicked truth of our far too omnipotent desire.
Until there was enough space to
feel something far more sensual;
we continue to collide outside of our bodies,
inside of our hearts and minds
and my spirit felt as my lips once had.
This is how I want to be with you:
all of me.
Undress the finest details of my truth,
Collect with your own sense of
self mine, and caress my soul
with the same sweetness you would my skin.
My heart is less tender for fear,
My mind more clear,
and my body less an object to lose yourself in,
but a vessel to find more of me.
We are more together here,
And I love that.
As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/02/more-together-apart-poem/
Thursday, January 21, 2016
I don't want to love you like this.
I don't want to play games with sensuality,
lingering too long with every touch,
aware of the power in my fingertips
as they trace your skin
beneath your clothing-
knowing I could remove them all with this one coy finger.
I don't want to look for answers in how your body
translate your sighs as promises
you never meant to keep.
It is so very convincing, you leaning into me
and perhaps if I lean back
you'll believe in this surface love of mine.
A love that would rather feel your arms
than hear your words.
That wants to kiss your lips to stop
you from asking questions.
Stop checking in with me and press into me--
that way I can choose what I want to hear
through what I feel.
That way I can continue to be deceived
by this thing I call love.
If ignorance is bliss than
I am strung out on lust,
high off an idea
that the longer you hold me
the longer I can hide.
But you see me.
You see that I am afraid
not of loving you
but what it might mean to let you love me.
What I might have to give.
What I would have to share with you
for you to truly see me.
Oh the weight of my heart is so much heavier
than your entire body on mine.
I don't want to love you easy,
I want a much more fragile nakedness.
I want more than just to want you,
I want to know you.
I want to be more distracted by your
integrity than I am by
how I know you will feel;
to see your thoughts as response
to your heart.
To let you see all that you cannot touch
and touch so sweetly
all that you cannot see.
I want to love you in ways
I don't yet know how.
As published on Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/i-want-to-love-you-poem/
God, just the thought of that
used to terrify me--
bind me in breathlessness
strangling any amount of
freedom my heart
thought it would lose
in loving only you.
Young, ignorant heart.
It knew not the vastness,
the immense capacity it has
that to give it to you
was not a limitation at all
but the purest release into loving.
It feared what it might miss out on,
who else's heart might match
its rhythm; who else's love
could seep into the contours
of its wounds--
unhealed scars from battling
But it is ready now.
Reactions swell like
rich ocean waves
only to crash and collect
back into the sea.
My heart now knows
the pattern of passing fear
and remains free; unarmed.
Oh what freedom there is in
love, knowing now
it needs nothing in return,
is bound only be its own intentional
propensity to feel.
This heart is committed to you
It knows that your love
is not the same as its own,
and does not search yours
to lend it purpose.
My heart is committed to you
in its honest,
commitment to love itself.
As published on Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/committed-to-love-poem/