i love love.
i love being in love,
and falling in love
and that divine queasy-dizzy feeling of realizing that
i’m in love.
and i really
love being loved.
but there is a trouble with love.
the trouble with love is sometimes,
when you open yourself up to love,
you open yourself up for equal or even more hurt.
i’m in love.
and i’m hurt.
you see, i’ve fallen in love with a people.
and a place.
with the karimajong people.
and the place of karamoja.
a literal head-over-heels-love that has me reeling and smiling. laughing, crying.
with joy and with sorrow…
joy for the beauty and strength,
the creativity and survival.
for the love the people and the land have shown to me.
joy for being welcomed, accepted.
for my new name(s),
with that joy comes great pain.
being ignored and shunned by their own country.
(a country that i also love, adore and cherish as part of Me.)
the pain of now leaving,
being asked to stay.
the hurt in the eyes of new friends
as we discuss…
you see, that is the trouble with love.
i’ve opened my heart wide to give and receive love–
and have given and received far beyond what i once thought capable of my puny heart.
i knew this would happen.
i knew it would hurt.
but i hope to always choose love.
to choose to open myself to love
even when it comes to feeling the hurt and pain, too.