The Heart in My Body

9

My heart in my chest,

Quivering, alone and unsure

Feeling small in a strange land

 

My heart in my head,

Rationalizing away the fear,

Lost among wayward thoughts

 

My heart in my eyes,

Hesitant, always curious,

Imbibing a world of wonders

 

My heart in my throat,

Stumbling over words not true

Groping for songs in the dark

 

My heart in my belly,

Holding space for the girl inside,

Crying with her until smiles come

 

My heart on my skin,

Exposed too soon, it feels,

Hoping wildly for tenderness

 

My heart in my hands,

Longing, feeling the way

To every fragile connection

 

My heart in my knees,

Falling to earth, breathing relief,

Sinking to a necessary pause

 

My heart in my feet,

Soaking up life, gingerly,

Taking all the steps I need …

 

My heart in my chest,

Back home, nothing looks the same

It is a wiser love, love, it is home.

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The History of Feeling

15

I found, under a star
and the moon’s steadfast gaze,
not only the life I am living,
but all around me, under a rock,
on the far, ghosted end of the forest,
the many lives I’ve lived,
strung like vines
jumbled and obtuse,
hanging like a pearl of leaves
in the midnight dew.
Like flowers peppering a field,
like moss, velvety and complete,
the past in the guise of now,
convinces me utterly
of permeability, shadow in light,
of the density in the history
of what I feel.
The power of the story lives here.
Give me a moment and I’ll find
a reason, a cause, an association
where instead there might be
you, I, things in themselves,
beyond our wildest imaginings,
divested of our hope and fear,
containing everything we need,
containing nothing.
 
– tt

Our Many, Our Whole

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My body, my land.

Containing all the stories

all the world in it,

but they are not all my own.

The whole is not simple,

vague or even pure.

We must never stop

listening to how this swirl

this totality morphs into the

particularities of me and

you, as we strive

and struggle to bring ourselves

to the whole with compassion

and understanding.

We are one, yes,

but it doesn’t end here;

we are still so incomplete

in our knowing,

if not our being.

May we always

listen

honour

respect

commit

to the mosaic of our

distinct stories.

Our bodies

Our landscapes,

Our jewels

build something

beautiful together. – TS

Come Undone

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undo the knotted breath
loosen the tightened grip
 
unsee the ordinary view
unhear the stained words
 
unmake the false construction
tear down the soiled edifice
 
unlearn the tainted lesson
ungrow the poisonous weed
 
say no to incoherent ideology
stand against the bile of untrue
 
unbelieve what feels wrong
unattempt to fit right in
 
unlove what has condition
unadmire what leads astray
 
unemcumber your beautiful body
unclutter your precious mind
 
but don’t stop here,
don’t stop here!
 
ours is a world to create
ours is a love to discover
 
let us first unravel the mess
so as to learn and build again. – TS