Love brings us up
from deep water to shore,
not a foot print for miles,
washes us up, gasping for air.
We look out, wanting to get love,
only to find our beloved is mirror, not source.
And all the while, love dwells beneath
the hated carapace of our hearts.
Clues are in the wild places…
The river meanders,
calmly agreeing with everything that happens.
Heavy rain slices its banks, changes its course,
yet it keeps on flowing.
The seed, hidden inside last year’s flower head,
hangs on ’til just the right moment
when the wind whisks by
and drops it into rain-softened soil.
The endless search stops
when there is no need to look out.
We are not afraid to look in–to accept
our own broken, beautiful, beating heart.