There is something in my heart
And won’t leave
What began as an ache
Easy to ignore
Begins to beat with my pulse
Stronger with each breath
And it feels like my heart is a drum
A rap a riot a tattoo a fistfight
A blade with nothing to sink into
Oh heart oh heart
Your pain is not to be ignored
Do not bury it away
Take your ribcage full of hurt
And plant it in the soft soil
And oh heart I see the bruise where you beat
But have one breath of patience
And the pain
Oh the pain you planted
Has been held long enough
In handfuls of good earth
Oh my heart
You have been hiding all along
In a field of flowers
And here oh heart
It does not hurt
I had forgotten about the heads
Of the clouds.
— They wear crowns in their unbrushed hair,
Did you know? —
I did not remember.
Though I knew as a child, it seems.
How good it is to see them again.
For I had become far too accustomed
To their murky ankles.
She is the meaning of strong.
My mold, my maker —
And yet she does not make me her.
Forged of her fire,
I wear her eyes filled with flowers and flame;
I stand on the opposite side of her coin.
We differ, are our own;
See same sights in unlike hues,
Our differing views,
But still — the stuff of our hearts is the same.