3/11/2014

I could not get rid of it, it is not time. But I could manipulate it, change it and reform it to slowly slink away while still confronting it.

I OM'd and OM'd; breathed. And exhaled with tears.

I returned to the place I started, anew.

Still.My own.

My heart is my heart

it is a gift

that bleeds

that weeps

that aches

that melts

that sheds

that peels

that reels

that screams

it shakes and crumbles

expands and assembles

cracks and creaks

breaks and resembles

it sinks and quakes

makes waves and goes

still.

I tremble

it is mine

a gift to you

but mine and my own. 

My hand found my heart, pressed--and I 

exhaled.