Trials of The Heart

We define love in the way in which we’ve personally experienced it.

For me, at a very vulnerable age, romantic love was tainted in my head in such a way, that the mere thought of it ignited an eery terror aflame inside my chest.

An unwanted feeling that would try to snake it’s spindling spine in and out the bones of my rib cage.

But every time it attempted to worm its way through the opening to coil itself around my guarded heart, it’s scales would always get cut upon the barbed wire.

Some snakes would come with letters of love from suitors.

Others would come with handheld saws and dynamite.

It wasn’t until I experienced love in such a complex and non encaging way that my perception was altered.

It wasn’t until I experienced a love that was void of ownership. A love that didn’t ask me for the keys to my house or a deed.

It wasn’t until an unsuspecting man slinked himself inside the cave of my chest one night, completely unnoticed.

No snakes to whisper bartering lies and false promises.

No empty words to warm up thy heart only to leave it cold.

And when he arrived at my rib cage (lantern in hand) and peered through, he did not fear the wicked spikes on the tangled wire encompassing my heart.

Instead he sat outside their barriers for awhile, patiently waiting with caution.

Tempting the heart with poetic words and intentions true.

He did not try to hack through the wires to get to the other side. He did not get cut.

He didn’t make any sudden movements.

He simply waited.

Waited until the heart felt safe within the confines of his presence and it’s once solid barbed vines began to wither away and die.

Then he walked up to the heart.

Although vulnerable now in front of him, he didn’t take it.

He just put his palm against its surface and said,

I am here.

I am here.

I am here.