We healers live shrouded by who we are. We are hobbled by our sight, we drown in all the things we see so clearly. That love, the powerful, forceful river that enters us, and becomes part of our existence, that fills our hearts like the basin of a beautiful fountain, and overflows us, pouring out into the world, that beautiful light opens our trust to the world.
It only takes a couple times of having that trust utterly destroyed that we begin to secret ourselves away, only allowing in a select few, and tentatively at that. We bear our calloused trust as a shield, with the knowledge that we will either come home with that shield or on it.
We sing the song of Prometheus. We give ourselves to the task of bearing love into this world, and we are paralyzed and repeatedly picked apart by our own doubts. People are just humouring me. I'm over reacting. I can't possibly be beautiful. What if this person hurts me? Why is the goal so clear, but the next step so unknown? With every injury it gets so much harder to let the next one in.
I am so desperate to open my heart to the world, but in that heart lives a scared little girl that has seen too much, and been violated and hurt too many times, and too badly. She's built a no grown-ups-allowed fort, but desperately wants someone to discover her and give her a hug.
June 28, 2008
It only takes a couple times of having that trust utterly destroyed that we begin to secret ourselves away, only allowing in a select few, and tentatively at that. We bear our calloused trust as a shield, with the knowledge that we will either come home with that shield or on it.
We sing the song of Prometheus. We give ourselves to the task of bearing love into this world, and we are paralyzed and repeatedly picked apart by our own doubts. People are just humouring me. I'm over reacting. I can't possibly be beautiful. What if this person hurts me? Why is the goal so clear, but the next step so unknown? With every injury it gets so much harder to let the next one in.
I am so desperate to open my heart to the world, but in that heart lives a scared little girl that has seen too much, and been violated and hurt too many times, and too badly. She's built a no grown-ups-allowed fort, but desperately wants someone to discover her and give her a hug.
June 28, 2008
1 comment:
Truth flows like poetry water
through the river of love
which is your beautiful
open heart.
-Me.
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