The love I give - sparse and scattered, are rare occurrences. Incomplete, with many unanswered bids for love and many silences left unfilled. I don’t know if I’ve been told how to love Or receive when I've been given. The cup is empty both ways. But moments do occur when love acts through me. It’s not me doing the deed of loving someone, but love itself, taking matters into her hands and pouring love in crevices she finds; on dried grass waiting to be reminded of the freshness of water. I have no say or claim on those acts. My love has been conditional and difficult But the love that pours through me has been freeing and complete. I don’t think I know how to love. Nor do I know where love comes from. All I hope is that love flows through me more.