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.