the tender, taking heart

But...

No matter how hard I try
to love you
If you can't feel it
we both lose something precious.

I see so much taking
in this world.
Less and less,
receiving.

I can't imagine
what taking hearts
feel.

I try,
In fact
I spend most of my days
trying
to understand.

Its hard to feel
compassion
for a taking heart,
I know.

And yet,
it is that effort,
of compassion
that liberates
the rest of us.

There's something
profoundly
sharp and sweet
in loving someone
so deeply
I've made it
my life's mission
to understand
her pain.

To hold the story
with care
and sometimes
panic.
But, mostly
these days,
care.

To step into her
shoes,
her eyes,
her development.
To know where
the rupture began
and how its been fed
all these years.

There would be
plenty
to critique
about me,
here.

I don't share this
to illustrate a story
of contrast or goodness.
I share this because it is
true.

This is not a story of
a "bad" heart.
Not in the least.
This is the story of
a tender heart
that never
FELT loved.

And that is
a particularly
cruel kind of hell.
To see love all around
oneself
but not be
able to
actually
touch it.

For me,
for now,
the battle
has ended.

My heart has
illuminated.
Today,
I see with the eyes
of a thousand Buddhas,
dripping with a love
so abundant
and ever-flowing,
that it does
not need to be taken.

Here is my love.
I will leave it
at your doorstep.
No matter what
you do with it,
it is a gift.


© 2026 Blythe Dolores Utz