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“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

— C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

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— Khalil Gibran

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Maya C. Popa, from “Spring”, Wound Is the Origin of Wonder

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Joanna Klink, from “On Diminishment”, The Nightfields

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May Sarton, The House by the Sea

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Stephanie Foo, What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma

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May Sarton, The House by the Sea

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Stephanie Foo, What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma

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-unknown source.

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Zehra Naqvi, from The Knot of My Tongue: Poems and Prose; “Grocery Shopping”

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Maya C. Popa, from Wound is the Origin of Wonder: Poems: “All inner life runs at some delay”