Put Down Your Bags And Stay

Love
that was always need
goes almost unnoticed
now that it is freely given.

What shall we call it?

You arrived at my door with bags
and I let you in,
laid my self bare
and you embraced what I revealed.

What is this that is unbound and unrestricted?

Freedom where we are accustomed to constraint,
generosity in place of judgment.

Hold up the mirror
we see ourselves for who we are,
speak
we hear the truth beneath the words
and reflect it for the other to see.

What is love if not this freedom?

Surely not that needy thing that stifles and restricts us,
that does not give when we give,
that restrains itself when we ache for passion that never comes
or stays so briefly as to be better if it had not come at all.

We are neither of us the other’s perfect fantasy
but what of those who are?
Where are they now?

What do they give us but longing for perfection
that is neither real nor can ever be possessed?

Put down your bags and stay.