I stumbled upon a wounded part of my heart today, a hidden fistful of angst that was playing hide and seek in my heart.

I immediately wanted to run to you, and be surrounded by your arms, nuzzled and filled.

I am strong enough, now, to allow you to support me.

Strong enough to cry in your big bear arms as I let myself go.

But I stopped myself.

This darkness, this pain, this resent and anger is not yours or “ours.”

It is mine.

Instead of letting you fill the space, I want to make more space.

 

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

 

I sit, alone with this wounded segment of my heart today and create more space to love you.

For it is not your job to fix it, or make it better—it is my own.

 

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Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: bhumikabhatia at Flickr