When Love Fills a Space

It’s amazing to see what happens

when loves fills a space.

There are things that are easier to spot:

Like shoulders dropping, letting go of the heavy burdens life creates.

Or smiles, getting bigger, as a relief sets in:

- Oh, I can be myself - all of me - and I’ll still be accepted.

Tears that have permission to flow without judgment.

Chests exhaling.

All of these things, you can see, when love fills a space.

And there are also invisible things,

when love fills a space.

Like hard, protective shells being left at the door

alongside pairs of slippers.

Armour that has been with people for years,

so encrusted that they felt it was part of who they were,

like how it’s hard to see the true shape of an oyster

when barnacles cling so tightly they become fused with the shell.

This armour is an invisible thing.

Or the sense and the memory

that all these people - wise and brave from years of living this hard human life,

were all once little children,

who just wanted to be fed,

wrapped in a warm blanket of love and care,

to go for a walk or play on a swing,

to know they were safe,

and that they belonged, just as they were.

An amazing thing that you don’t see,

when love fills a space

is that when these people leave the room,

they forget to collect their armour as they go out,

the way you leave behind an umbrella when it’s stopped raining,

because you no longer need it.

They move off, caught up now in this loving connection,

and the armour is left, scattered in piles,

happy to be relieved of its duties.

You can’t see everything that happens when love fills a space

but you can, definitely, feel it.