To Women who Seek

If love must be begged for
Or asked for
it morphs…
And doesn’t remain love.
Take the shedding scales
from your skin
the wounds in your heart
And, build around them
a garden of roses
an altar of gems
for, they’re precious.
The knowing,
like lighting on an ink blue sky
is a gift.
Or, didn’t you know?
Shed the seeking awhile
And rest..a day, a week, a month
many months
A year…many years.
To let what you’re seeking, find you.