While protecting themselves from
The pain of another broken heart,
Silhouettes ran away, leaving
Murky soul waters –
Opaque, clouded with particles of
Fractured selves that were
Splintered long ago.
Long ago when wounded spirits
Sealed in coffins could neither breathe nor
Love, protected as they were, from the
Rejections from their childhoods
Where they learned to be invulnerable.
Coffins nailed shut with spikes of
Luxury, obsessive work to climb an
Invisible ladder no one will remember,
Frivolous chatter, mindless distractions,
Soul-numbing officious busyness.
There the heart grows colder and harder
Until it can no longer feel or care.
The only place it is at home is an
Empty outer darkness,
Where shadows murmur to themselves.
Ah, but the vulnerable are blessed with
Hearts that bleed, connect, see, care,
That come in oneness with cruets of oil,
Cups of wine, and welcomes of grace
To the redwoods, and the children, and
The prophets who sleep under bridges.
Only those who risk loving know love.
Only those who know love are at one
With creator and creation.
Only those who dare to risk love
To love is to be vulnerable.
To be vulnerable is to open our hearts to
Pain, rejection, loss, sorrow, grief, and the
Daily dyings that allow warm, soothing
Light to flood into the soul.