Love : giving and receiving

I have love to give.

It tumbles out of me

in bright globules,

ready to burst.

I have love to give

and I give it. 

I have love to give you:

the love of a friend,

a mother,

a child,

a sibling,          

the love of a mentor,

a student,

a fellow,

a peer,

the love of a stranger

crossing paths

for a single moment,

and then,

never again.

The love

of a lover,

a spouse,

a mate,

has already been irrevocably

gifted.

So that,

you cannot have.

I can give you love

unconditional:

the kind of love

that sees beauty

in your faults,

and your scars,

and your open wounds

that my love can tell

it cannot heal;

the kind of love that knows

that kindness is easy—

love flows downhill

hate trudges up.

But, in what has become

the most tragic hoax,

I have somehow

never learned

how to receive love.

You may love me

just as I love you,

but I cannot accept it

with grace,

and gratitude.

The wide doors of my open heart

cannot let it in

without weighing myself

against the immeasurable

worth of the gift you give me.

The gift you give me

can never reach my core,

because I always lose

that competition.

I am not worthy

of the love

you let loose my way,

that seeps down

like water through grass:

down through the soil,

down past the roots,

tunneling through the crevices

between the rocks,

only to find the hard

bedrock

of my soul

that has learnt

not to let love in,

because I am not worthy,

and I will only disappoint.

I am trying to learn that

I am worthy of love

because I am human.

I am worthy of love

because I exist.

I am worthy of love

because I am loved.

My faults,

and my flaws,

and my scars,

and my wounds,

make me as beautiful

as yours make you.

I am trying to learn

this obscure idea.

I work on it

day, after day, after day,

even as my love

tumbles out of me

like a clutter

of children’s toys

down a slide.