The shape of love is changing,
Defying to stay the same.
Each year gives birth a new chapter,
Unnatural to be contained.
So why is it so difficult,
To listen with an open heart?
My mind holds on so tightly,
To the times I stood apart.
The years full of uncertainty,
Encircled by my youth.
The molds I force myself into,
Blind to my own truth.
My journey is finally beginning,
Or perhaps just quickening pace.
My eyes are starting to open,
To this unfulfilling race.
My body is my temple,
Whispering and nudging me near.
How will I quiet and listen,
To her wisdom so perfectly clear?
When can we stand together,
Proud of our heavenly shapes?
When will we see that our place is,
In the midst our own beauty, His grace?
Poem by Theresa Hart, sent 9/10/02