Healing

She leans in,
then pulls back.
She counts on gravity
to keep her grounded.
But she's learned to resist the pull
against her will.
So she soars,
and takes you along.
And you aren't sure if you're letting
love or fear guide you,
because you can't resist her,
but you can't have her.
And you'd rather stay safely tucked away, 
far from uncertainties
and roller-coasters
than freefall in love
with her gypsy soul.
But you can't seem to take your eyes
off her light.
She is so majestic
in her weightlessness.
She doesn't force; 
she draws you in, 
with the way she moves 
across time and space,
and speaks in languages
you'll never understand 
until you get really quiet,
and release the grip of your mind; 
until you cast away any notion 
of love
as a possession
or trust
as a prize; 
until you realize that she is a reflection
of all that you already are.
You treat her gently
while learning to love yourself.
She thanks you for your kindness
and fills up pockets of your time
with momentary bliss, 
so elusive and transient
but immensely profound.
And you're changed,
and you've grown,
and you're whole,
and you wonder how you got there
looking up at the sky
at a firefly
circling around your heart.

And you suddenly realize 
that you are no longer afraid
to change your mind.