I wish that I was someone who,

approached headfirst with joy

would accept it as my birthright—

walk forward, palms open,

greeting it as I would a dear friend.

 

I am not there yet.

When I see it, I feel undeserving.

I sidle up to it, afraid of opening,

of blooming towards it like a rose to the sun.

 

A futile way to live, I know:

and every day I creep one step closer

to freely stepping into any light

that is offered,

to opening instead of pushing away.

 

Forgive me, then, that I at times

do not accept your love for what it is—

unassuming, simple, steadfast

on days both troubled and lovely.

Every day my heart accepts a little more,

I feel the urge to run

a little less.

 

It is both a blessing and a curse, this journey.

I will never take for granted what you offer me.

My love for you is all the more because of 

your patience through my slow opening.

You are as sure for me as the first light of the morning,

a bewilderment of devotion.

 

Relephant Read:

Author: Keeley Milne

Editor: Renee Jahnke

Photos: Robert Moore/Flickr