His words resounded
achingly in my heart.
They were not so memorable
in their phrasing, but
next to immortal in their meaning.
And my heart grew desperate.
~
As each minute passed
and his words continued to fall,
I felt the cracking once again
(a sloppy patch job undone),
of my heart breaking.
And my heart grew desperate.
~
Then, it was all I could do
not to rush from that room,
sobbing as resolve drained
into sorrow, uninvited,
consuming my breath and soul.
And my heart grew desperate.
~
The rips and tears were real
again as my soul screamed.
Life is more than breathing!
Life is more than breathing!
But you couldn’t hear me.
And my heart grew desperate.
~
Finally, out in the fresh air
the world seemed to fit
my too-big feelings.
I remembered the ins and outs
of this mysterious, ambiguous life.
~
I remembered what to love
and that a tree never knows
which season will be its last.
It only prays that when winter comes,
it will live through to spring.
And my heart grew hopeful.
