by Maya Christobel

With a huge wound to the heart,

there is only one way to contemplate recovering…

being loved and having the experience of love enduring.

Love is a perfect lure back out into the open

where you can then feel the sun again,

shed your heavy armor

and lay down in the grass for a nap.

So, spend life searching and chasing love down,

in every alley way,

no time left for dreaming or creating,

simply the eternal search.

This is what I thought was true.

But once the undeniable truth about love was revealed,

I understood in the pit of my stomach

that noone can ever do enough loving

to heal this wound.

Noone can prove I am lovable,

Noone can be trustworthy

to never,

under any circumstances,

betray me,

or disappoint me,

or forget my birthday.

And there is an even greater truth,

a perpetual violence we perpetrate…

to withhold love from being expressed

to others and to oneself.

This contraction of the heart…

this is the colossal wound,

For the contraction,

even as an illusion of protection…

sentences oneself

to early retirement from

the human race

and to joining the ranks

of the walking dead.

The most profound truth about love

is that the healing

is not in being loved at all,

but in the loving.

Holding that dynamic expression of God

in my entire body and soul

and sharing it…

no strings…

no expectations…

just the sheer joy in savoring

the expression itself…

grateful for every microsecond

my love is



and relished…

or not.


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