How Is It Possible

How is it possible that we cannot love those we were meant to… sent to

And to some who have experienced love and tenderness withheld, I want to help, to heal, and yet… I find that sometimes I need the love and tenderness delivered, and so am both selfless and selfish simultaneously

And the suffering we’ve shared is so deep, so real, but ultimately, shared

And in the sharing, understanding, a joint comprehension of seen and unseen traits, actions and reactions, behaviors, laserpoint

When they say it hurts your heart, it cuts like a knife; these things are the true pains, pain that brings you to your knees

And passion, ah, passion, mixed with love, is a drug, consuming at times, but addictive and lasting in ways never known or spoken

And when you thought someone loved you, I mean really loved you and learned that indeed, they never did, couldn’t, really…

Maybe they loved the thought of you, or loved you in what small way they could, disregarding love, the way you needed it, not intimate or heartfelt, but because they felt they had to, but not enough to last, or even enough at all

And when you experience love for others that brings tears to your eyes, chokes the voice from your throat, reduces it to a soft whisper

It is hard to comprehend that some may never experience this for a single soul, or a single minute, not even for themselves

The love that changes, transforms, brings realization and unselfishness, sharing of souls and belief, a compass

And some forms of love, more shallow, less concrete, not love really, but some form of emotion, maybe

I don’t understand it, I think I can see it, but not very clearly, don’t know why, why some do not desire more, to give or to get

What kind of life lessons could teach us not to love, not to want to, or to accept it for ourselves, terrible lessons to be sure,

but then, there is another explanation, almost worse, yes worse, do some just come that way… inability to feel compassion, love

It seems to me so, knowledge born of experience; ashes speak of a fire long gone, at one time blazing brightly, extinguished cruelly

And the pain of that knowledge burns, hurts, creates empathy and sympathy, empathy being the more meaningful

Yet how can we feel empathy for one who does not care, or is that a pretense, so hard to believe, it is,

 is any spent emotion wasted, who benefits from it, giver or taker

Each side of the coin tells a story, each story’s flow is its own key to the perception and insight and reality of the teller

Each teller of tales cannot help but put a spin on the tale, a personal, twisted version, of the tale itself, recreating it

And motives enter in, are there ever good motives, motive is motive, should we operate as such, with an agenda, is that ever honest

And is it hypocritical to join in, when you may not fit in, but you dearly want to be a part of something, outside of yourself, something good and true, even though you are not yet good and true yourself

And why would some reject others, when everyone is suffering some form of lack, need, desire, disease, and yet possibly brings an important piece

Open arms are wonderful, open hearts, beautiful, open eyes are honest, open ears, thoughtful, open minds, answer to all

Oh, those days of light hearts, streaming sunrays through high, puffy clouds, peaceful innocence, why can’t I capture this moment forever

Why the dark days and low, dense gray clouds, heavy shoulders, increased gravity, lessened strength, heavy, so heavy

But do those times truly define me, which am I, outside or in, dark or light, truth, brightness, things that inspire me

I’m compelled to communicate, some may never understand, but it is so much better than the alternative, solitary, alone, not a smile to be found, stretching nothing, going nowhere, fear

I would rather suffer some, if it means more joy, more light, more love, it’s hard to grasp, comprehend, fathom, but success brings with it a certain strength and desire for more

How to measure success, is it better received immediately or anticipated, time-earned promises, does it benefit others

When it all comes together, all beauty is in the eyes of all of the beholders, those who choose to see; experiences deliver the recognition of truth

And truth floats, lifts and changes, creates, shares, becomes more, and more is not one, and so I see you, and you, and you

And the joy in your face echoes mine, mirrored forever, I hope to tie it down gently, with a soft, swirling ribbon that dances in a cool breeze, and entice it to stay, willingly, always

-Liz 5/12/11