(A love poem to my husband)
Losing Myself
You, with your soft, kind eyes,
your gentle hands,
your patient ways -
have done what I would not believe.
Stone by stone
you disassembled my wall
crumbling the mortar of fear -
of the past, of the future,
into your careful fingers.
With your open arms
you carried away the bricks,
the piles I barricaded myself behind,
the defense to keep others at a distance.
As I lay, broken, hapless, helpless
you believed that another me hid beneath
a pupae waiting to emerge,
a butterfly with as-yet sodden wings.
That unshakable faith of purpose,
a hand to lift me again,
the hesitance as wings unfurl
and together now we soar.
In losing myself
I found ever so much more.
No comments:
Post a Comment