to love at all is to be vulnerable—
it is to pour your heart in the open sunlight
where an eagle can swoop by
and drive it's horrible claws into it,
you see, to love
is to play the guitar for more than a minute
and nobody drops change in the hat you buck upside down
it is to run up to a friend cowering his countenance from the pouring rain
it is this feeling that you must shield your umbrella over them
even as heavy drops slowly trickle up your arm
to love is to withstand your patience with a child
but suffer the longest hug when they scrape their legs
to love is to cry en la misa de sanación
next to your mother who never heard the beautiful confessions you keep telling the priest
to love is to let your heart break
when your lover comes clean
and you withstand the realization that they're just as human as you
— flawed; but worthy of forgiveness
to love is to be black and look sorrowfully at your history
but endure the duress of time
and light a spark and flame in your brotherman
to love at all is to be vulnerable—
it is to pour your heart in the open sunlight
where the doves flock up looking to find you
and the rainbow is the Heavenly gate
where the wings of your spirit can finally fly through
YOU ARE READING
The Heart that I'm Hearing
Poesie"The Heart that I'm Hearing" is a collected assortment of poems written by Sanahara. This book attempts to express some of the many things that the hearts asks from each other. To want, to be among, to make and to unravel each other in the euphoric...
