Lord, who am I?
When I was a child, my heart burst with love;
Arms open to everyone,
I loved generously, without judgement, without reserve.
Over the years, that love was bruised,
Battered, beaten into hiding.
The love I gave, only wishing for such love in return,
Was rebuffed, refused, ridiculed,
Or worse, used against me.
I learned to love in secret, the love I felt aching within my soul.
It struggled and withered, longing for a worthy heart
To love it in the same measure.
Do I love too much?
Never.
I do know that such love can be a fearsome thing,
Overwhelming those it touches.
So I narrowed its focus, saving it for fiction,
Loving mythical heroes,
only the stage or my dreams large enough for such love as I felt.
I lost sight of myself.
But still my heart bursts with love!
And here at last is someone who reads my poems, hears my songs…
…Shares my dreams?…
He speaks of romance, of affection and respect.
Ah, but is his heart strong enough,
His soul anchored firmly enough to withstand the tempest?
I am great and terrible, damaged and whole,
Generous and selfish, scarred, yet full of life.
Can he accept what I offer, all this love crying to be free,
who I am, all that I am?
Lord, I know who I am.