I am looking for a teacher
one who can teach me
how to love,
whom to love,
and how to hold love gently
without letting it become a wound.

I loved many of my own,
with a heart that knew no art
except the art of giving.
I poured my tenderness into their hands,
I placed my trust at their feet,
I gave them the warmth of my heart
yet I was betrayed.

I loved everyone I called my own,
yet somehow I failed
to make them feel
the affection I carried within,
the love that silently bloomed
in the hidden chambers of my heart.

And then
they left me alone.

Now I walk through life
with the weight of the love
I once gave them.
A strange and invisible burden,
yet heavier than stone,
it hangs upon my heart
like an unanswered prayer.

This weight wrenches my heart
and somewhere deep within,
blood-drops of sorrow
fall without a sound
only to dry in the darkness
before they can become tears.

In this mortal world,
where hearts misunderstand hearts,
where love may be mistaken
for weakness or want,
I am still searching
for a genuine teacher.

Someone who can teach me
whom to love
and how to love;
someone who can teach my heart
the grammar of affection,
the poetry of tenderness,
and the wisdom of giving
without losing oneself.

And yes,
my teacher must be honest enough
to hold a mirror before me,
to show me the places
where I went wrong,
the paths where I stumbled,
the words that became wounds,
the silences that became distances.

Let that teacher tell me
where I committed my mistakes
in loving all my family members,
where my love failed to speak,
where my care failed to reach,
where my intentions were pure
but my ways were wrong.

Let me know my faults
so that I may punish myself
with the truth,
not with hatred
so that I may correct myself,
not destroy myself;
so that I may learn
the lessons my wounded heart
has been trying to teach me.

I am looking for a genuine teacher
one who will not merely say,
“You loved wrongly,”
but will patiently show me
how I could have loved better.

One who will guide me
when I lose my way,
teach me when I do not understand,
correct me when I am wrong,
and perhaps most of all
forgive me
when I falter,
when I stumble,
when I commit mistakes
while learning the difficult language
of love.

I am looking for a teacher
who can guide me,
who can teach me,
who can correct me,
who can forgive me.

And perhaps, one day,
teach this tired heart of mine
how to love
without hurting,
how to give
without breaking,
and how to remain loving
even when love
does not return.

Anil Kumar Mishra, Ranchi, India