And tonight

he dreams

and speaks

in a language 

I don’t understand.

I startle awake.

Uncomfortable

vulnerability flooding 

in.

I already care too

much about this

man.

My vested interest

in his future

and what makes

his eyes twinkle with

delight,

being severe.

I’m completely

naked,

and it scares me.

My old pattern is to 

run away to safety.

To clam up.

To lock the door,

and return the 

key to my own

heart.

Yet what does

one do when

he’s already inside?

And worse,

what do you 

do when looking

directly into the mirror

of your own

need for reassurance?

The tiny seed of

magnificent things

to come, that you’ve

been nurturing,

suddenly so weak

and fragile

to your own

imperfection.

If this was a movie,

things would be 

simple:  Run Lola Run!

Yet even now

contemplating the 

leap back to

solitude, hurts

the back of my 

throat with ugly salty tears.

I am a daughter

of the Morrigan,

and the only way

is through.

TTSP, Lu.