I Want What's Real

What do I want from you?

It's simple and pure.

I want you to share everything that's in your heart.

When it's coming from your heart, I know it's real.

No, don't lie to me because, you see, I can tell the difference.

I can feel when it's true and honest and authentic and when you're sheltering beneath the mask you've so carefully crafted that even you don't realize you've been wearing one.

I can tell because I can see beneath the surface into the secret corners of your heart that you've kept locked away for so long, collecting scars and covered in cobwebs from a lifetime of neglect.

I know this scares you. I know how frightening it is to be seen when you've done such a good job of hiding because it's all you've known.

I've been there, too.

I know you want to cast me out and shut the door that's fastened with a thousand locks.

But don't you know? I'm a locksmith, but I only hold one key. And if you'd look deep enough, you'd see that you're holding one, too, with the same grooves and curves and crevices that unlocks the heart of me that wants to open up to you.

So tell me.

Tell me everything you feel--really feel, with brutal honesty. An honesty that makes you shiver and tremble and surrender on your knees and you do it anyway because this is your time and you know this is what you're meant for.

Don't worry. I'll be right here, on my knees in surrender beside you.

I want you to let the words tumble past your lips, to let the vulnerability stream down your cheeks, to let your heart flood with feeling like a dam that has burst.

I want you to tear your heart out and hand it to me not knowing what I will do with it.

You know what I would do with it?

I'd treasure it.

I'd put it in my chest so you are never sad and never alone and the scars begin to heal and the cobwebs are cleared away. And I'd take my own heart out and place it in your hands--as collateral, you might say.

Or simply as the symbol of trust we both need.

And every night when I close my eyes, I'd place my hands upon my chest just to hear your cherished heartbeat.

I'd say a tender prayer in sacred rhythm:

"You are held. You are safe. You are loved."

(This essay was originally published August 29, 2021 by Susan Dawn)