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Love's Call, by Gabriela Amada

If you call on love, but it doesn’t answer

don’t assume it is indifferent,

or yourself unworthy.

Not if you call with the most

wounded and sacred parts of you.

Not if you call and then go running. 

Not if you’ll bleed all over it after

it has licked and groomed itself

to shine like a full moon

in your midnight.

My dear, your sun will rise.

It will shine bright enough to

find the source of your bleeding.

It will shine on a Tuesday when

you were expecting rain,

and you’ll see that the blood

has stopped spilling onto sidewalks.

You will stop cowering from the

shame of carrying family secrets.

The shame of loving a mother and

a father in the same sentence while

everyone is watching and listening.

The shame of being a woman who

really only knows how to love a woman

with your whole heart gleaming. 

The shame you held when you didn’t

realize it wasn’t yours to hold.  

Shame is love’s lost child.

Hold it close in the folds of the

flesh left hanging in midlife.

Let shame be lost in the you that is

becoming stronger.

That is filling with the healing

elixir of understanding. 

Let shame be the meal that

plants a desire for your hands

to stir their own ingredients.

Boiling herbs until their flavors marry

perfectly inside your nostrils.

Boiling until all that is left is

the savor of perfection.

This is what we are given in life.

The choice to eat only what is given,

or to create something when

our tongues are tired from

not savoring.

When you call on love make sure

you can see it clearly.

Make sure love sees you too.

Make sure you have a place for it, but

don’t force it if it doesn’t fit easily.

If you want it to have a place in you

make enough room for it to grow,

but don’t expect it to

fill you all the way up.

That is your job alone. 

To let life fill you up, but to know

what to scoop out so that love can

be planted.

Tend to your garden instead of

folding in half and weeping

when love knows there is no

place for it.

Unfold and rise up and

let your hands be thick

with the evidence of your tending.

Love will find you when

you’re making other plans.

It will come and softly whisper,

“I’m ready.”

Because love rarely comes

in yelling and cloaked in

fluorescent colors.

It sneaks in like a whisper,

and takes on the texture

of your life.

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