When I Meet You

Before I could stay with you,

I had to stop leaving me.

I had to stop bargaining

for belonging.

I turn toward myself now

when the old winds rise,

Not to close the door . . .

but to keep it from

blowing open or slamming shut

with every passing storm.

Now . . .

when I meet you, my love . . .

I am not asking

to be kept.

I am already

home,

and free

to love you

from there.