KEIRA LYNN DODD

Love 

 

I let it in willingly,

this most exquisite torture,

called to wake

my sleeping heart, a bruised animal

curled in hibernation,

now stiff and hungry,

roaring aloud its many needs.

 

It had been better to let it sleep,

or so I think, though my heart

feels otherwise.  It bounds

happily through my world, taking

what it wants, taking me

along for the ride, into danger

or adventure, fraternal twins

of a life well spent.

 

I am alive to the possibilities,

open to injury on the edge of the cliff,

one step from disaster or flight,

somehow afraid of both,

of what it would mean

to take that first step, to trust myself

to the tempest that whips me

further past the safety

of sleep and comfort.

 

I asked for this.

I welcomed it into my chest,

let it tease my heart awake,

and now it fills me up

until the fullness hurts,

until my heart itself breaks open,

bleeding and vulnerable,

yet not wounded enough

to keep it from carrying me

naked into the future.