Poem on Vulnerability

In a dream,
I was walking on a grassland
The grassland with,
The music of the winds
The serenity of green
The canvas of clouds
The dance of flowers
The bond of roots
The crowd of insects
The shades of the sun
The romance of birds
And they were like an instrument
The instrument that made rhythms
Due to the opening of each part of it to the vibration of life,
Which moves through every inch of this instrument
I then pressed into the grass and let the ground pull me into the world beneath and beyond
Every part of me lay down
Only the heart stood uptight like a defender
To safeguard the wound on my chest
The heart closed itself like a fist, holding a gem inside from falling open
The open grassland seems like a maze to the heart
The heart like a door covers the wound
O innocent heart, with an intention to give space for the wound to heal
The flower befallen on the chest asked the heart,’ How the wound came upon the chest?
The heart giggled and said, ‘O daughter of the earth, it was an arrow that found its home in the
chest and gave birth to the wound.
The flower's petals laid on the heart and asked, ‘And why do you close yourself to heal the
wound?
The sparkling blood rolled down and the heart said, ‘Because the arrow showed me the result to
stay open. I never knew close, but the hurt of the wound cried for me to close it as the wildness
of it had no space to flow in the world full of closed structures.
What if I open it and the wound gets exposed? Will the wound have a place in the world that has
everything to cover the wound but is open with space to feel the wound?
The flower replied, ‘O my heart, open yourself with the wound and tend to it. This is space for
the hurt to cry and the wound to heal. The doors you form around the wound don’t protect the

wound, it just gives place for more hurt to grow inside the wound, just the cries remaining inside
with the wound getting harder and harder with nothing to flow in and no space for it to flow out.
The moment you open, the wound finds itself in the plethora of your forest where love
regenerates, compassion grows, warmth breeds everywhere, relation forms every moment and
safety holds the ground.
This flower spoke to every part of me.
Every part of me that closed itself to protect me
I sank into every depth of these parts
Every part blossomed itself with all that it had hidden inside
Everything Belonged in that moment
Their opening was like a birth, a birth where every part witnessed life as never before.
Their witnessing became my wisdom
What if vulnerability is about tending to this wisdom our wounded parts carry?
The depth where these parts hide is the depth of intimacy you carry.
Then I asked the flower, ‘What if vulnerability is dropping into the world of softness?
The flower waved by the wind and laughed, ‘Yes, my earthly being
The world of softness
Softness, meaning to weave everything together
The one that holds the power for Wholeness to rise.
So, what are we really resisting? Vulnerability, softness, or just the Wholeness of our being?