Love is not love until love’s vulnerable.
She slowed to sigh, in that long interval.
A small bird flew in circles where she stood;
The deer came down, out of the dappled wood.
All who remember, doubt. Who calls that strange?
I tossed a stone, and listened to its plunge.
She knew the grammar of least motion,
She taught me one virtue, and I live thereby.
She held her body steady in the wind;
Our shadows met, and slowly swung around;
She turned the field into a glittering sea;
I played in flame and water like a boy
And I swayed out beyond the white sea-foam;
Like a wet log, I sang within a flame.
In that last while, eternity’s confine,
I came to love, I came into my own.
Today, the first and last lines in this poem ring true for me. In order to love, we must be OK with being vulnerable. Being vulnerable might leave us open for target of good and bad, but that is the only way to learn truly what love is. No matter what, live life with an open heart and try to fight back at reacting negatively when we get hurt. Learning the ways of Love will wake you up and ‘come into your own’.