Courage

Some tell me I'm brave. That I'm courageous. For choosing this life I live.

Packing up and moving. Staying when others leave. Risking the little I have. Not having much. That's nothing. That's easy.

The one thing that takes courage goes unnoticed... It seems so simple. Yet isn't. To keep my heart opened through it all.

After it was broken. Not once. Not twice. I choose to keep it wide open. For everyone. Vulnerable to the outside world. Easily hurt amidst the existing scars. Easily bruised by others' carelessness.

When the wind of a storm forces itself through the house. When the sensible thing is to shut the window, tightly, securely. I, instead, lock it open. I try to take in the fresh air. Even though it's cold and messes up my hair. I stand with it. Let it wash over me. And refuse to shut what I've worked so hard to open. Enjoying the beauty of it. Accepting the imperfections. I still welcome the storm.

That's what I gather all my strength and courage for. The rest, the moves, the decisions... that's easy. To keep loving is the difficult part. Again and again. Others and myself. With what remains of my heart now.

Because opening it inevitably leads to hurt. Whether intentional or not. There will be more scars and bruises and scratches. Until one day. When I've healed it enough times, and in the right ways. It will all seem worth it.