Love is An Old Wooden Chair

I feel you knocking

Rap, tap, tap…

As if you were inside my heart

Screaming for attention

I could surrender to the tantrum and let the dam break

Succumb to the little one within who misses you and tremble

Yet I am wiser now

I straighten up a bit

Make room for breath

Breathe into the wounded, ravaged parts of me

And welcome them

I shall not shun you

Anymore

I’ve only prolonged your stay

So I whisper…

It’s okay, I’m here

Tenderly mothering my broken parts

Harboring old sentiments

Worn out and tired

Ready for death

Yet without fully embracing them

Loving them

Making room for them

I cannot get them to leave…

Perhaps they’ll never go

And together, like high rises

We’ll see new heights

Side by side

Until, at last, we crumble

To make way for the new