Love, I believe, the unrestrained love that sets you on fire has the ability to save one's soul. Too long has my heart been cold, too long have I gone without the lighting of my spirit, the yearning and the hoping in the pursuit of forever. It has been so long since I let the warmth of a lover's embrace reach past skin and flesh. It has been so long since I allowed hope in the form of another, ages since I heard my heart sing without deliberately shutting it up. With the passage of time I have become more adept at muffling her cries, at walling her up and hiding her lest she strays into the arms of some other who might take her break her. I kept her safe in the tower only allowing occasional glimpses of the sun until the cold got to her and eventually she froze.
I just looked through my blogger and I realise that the last time I wrote was at the start of last year, and I wrote about love. And it occurs to me that perhaps the start of the year finds me opening up, wanting the sun. I wonder what happens throughout the rest of the year that takes away this inclination? Even now as I am writing this post I find that I am restrained...old habits? I realise that my ability to open up and write freely is connected to my ability to love without restraint, to open up myself to the possibility of love and consequently hurt? Where did I go? I have been reading my letter to my future that I wrote here 8 years ago and I wonder truly where did that person go? I stopped writing even though I promised myself that I wouldn't ever stop. And I can see that I stopped at the time when my heart broke and I couldn't quite piece it together again. Not quite the same way it was before. It is perhaps not quite so surprising that it is love that brings me back here.
So I have a question. Is it the love or is it the lover? Or are they both one and the same? What is it about this love that brings me back to a place where my creative screams for expression and where my heart is bursting with words that must not be left unwritten? Or does this love reside in myself? In finding myself? And if yes, does this mean that I have not loved myself in so long? I think not. So therefore I am forced to return to the lover. What is it about the lover? Is there not a risk that I would again return to the grey abyss should the lover decide to leave? I guess that this is the thing about the effects of hurt; it brings everything into question. The fierceness of my heart is involuntarily tamed, the questions rise up unbidden. The cold comes.
G says that I must keep opening up as a woman and keep dreaming like a little girl. I chuckle as I read his message. So easy for him to say. To open up would mean to open my heart, all of it, to his sun. Oh the wonder...or maybe this is not about him. I remember a discussion I had with my girl Tracey where she says that we must allow God into every part of us. I am trying to reconcile this opening up to that and although it seems like a long shot I find that I would much rather do that if it is all the same. But what if it is not? What if by doing that I am hiding behind my heavenly Father who has given me what I asked for, a love that consumes me and truly sets my heart on fire. The love that returns me to my self and saves my soul? Must I trust this too? Its been so long... It has been so long... but when God restored the inheritance of Zion we were like those who dreamed... I dreamed of love like this.
So for now, I am here. Beginning again. Saving my soul.
With love,
Abimbola
I just looked through my blogger and I realise that the last time I wrote was at the start of last year, and I wrote about love. And it occurs to me that perhaps the start of the year finds me opening up, wanting the sun. I wonder what happens throughout the rest of the year that takes away this inclination? Even now as I am writing this post I find that I am restrained...old habits? I realise that my ability to open up and write freely is connected to my ability to love without restraint, to open up myself to the possibility of love and consequently hurt? Where did I go? I have been reading my letter to my future that I wrote here 8 years ago and I wonder truly where did that person go? I stopped writing even though I promised myself that I wouldn't ever stop. And I can see that I stopped at the time when my heart broke and I couldn't quite piece it together again. Not quite the same way it was before. It is perhaps not quite so surprising that it is love that brings me back here.
So I have a question. Is it the love or is it the lover? Or are they both one and the same? What is it about this love that brings me back to a place where my creative screams for expression and where my heart is bursting with words that must not be left unwritten? Or does this love reside in myself? In finding myself? And if yes, does this mean that I have not loved myself in so long? I think not. So therefore I am forced to return to the lover. What is it about the lover? Is there not a risk that I would again return to the grey abyss should the lover decide to leave? I guess that this is the thing about the effects of hurt; it brings everything into question. The fierceness of my heart is involuntarily tamed, the questions rise up unbidden. The cold comes.
G says that I must keep opening up as a woman and keep dreaming like a little girl. I chuckle as I read his message. So easy for him to say. To open up would mean to open my heart, all of it, to his sun. Oh the wonder...or maybe this is not about him. I remember a discussion I had with my girl Tracey where she says that we must allow God into every part of us. I am trying to reconcile this opening up to that and although it seems like a long shot I find that I would much rather do that if it is all the same. But what if it is not? What if by doing that I am hiding behind my heavenly Father who has given me what I asked for, a love that consumes me and truly sets my heart on fire. The love that returns me to my self and saves my soul? Must I trust this too? Its been so long... It has been so long... but when God restored the inheritance of Zion we were like those who dreamed... I dreamed of love like this.
So for now, I am here. Beginning again. Saving my soul.
With love,
Abimbola
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