Heart Connecting Heart

heart poem

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The Heart in My Body

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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.

Love is Real

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How many times
I’ve tried to find you
using the only
language I know
in hopes bringing
you closer,
 
But my eyes
were travelling
faster and farther
than I could
keep up with;
you knew.
 
I couldn’t find
rest at all.
I didn’t trust
that in stillness,
you would
find your way
 
(to me. That
this is what you
wanted, too)
 
I couldn’t close
my eyes, which
gave me, at least,
enough of the
world to pacify
my fearful heart.
 
But this is
no longer enough.
You are here,
yet not here; my
blindness compounds
the closer you are.
 
My belly knows;
it pulsates,
Feverish.
My heart knows
it has been in
darkness too long.
 
What terrorizes me,
beyond the seen,
will take me to
everything. I know
this now. You
always did.
 
Will you wait
as I close my eyes,
and still my fledgling heart,
and trust that
the whole world
remains, and bigger
 
(and that you will
still be here, and
that love is real)?
– TS

You are Protected.

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You are blessed.
You are protected.
This is a big world,
a large space
to roam in
get lost in,
but the world in
your heart is of
near-inconceivable
proportion.
You will find it
mirrored in the
most unlikely
of places.
But you will always
find it,
your enormous
heart
writ large,
small and
magical,
etched across
lands. – TS

Love is Love

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Love is everywhere.
Love is hard.
Love is not blind.
Love is deep inside.
Love is for sharing.
Love is also for taking.
Love is worth discovering.
Love is big.
Love flies like a breeze over the ocean.
Love caresses like dew on grass.
Love can leave us aching and broken.
Love can be misunderstood.
Love is the basis of all things.
Love is a great pursuit.
Love should never be made small.
Love is between all of us, all the time.
Love is love. – TS

The Path to Spring

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These are restless, porous days,
when what has been dried out
and hollowed in the living of
our darkened, wintry existence
 
Gives way, as moon to sun, to
the watering of spring, the juicy
filling out of aching joints, the
shadows of heart awaiting light
 
The long ache of cracking through
of stepping out, of tentative steps
to sun-drenched emergence, finding
the will to enter our rightful place
 
Come to the tree, then; she has been
through this hundreds, thousands
of times, has seen cold, barren land
quiver, and then zealously come to life
 
Feel her wholeness, her towering
solidity, and feel also the light, the
upward trajectory, ground to sky
the roots of her ever generating.
 
Wrap your arms around her and
remember, because you always
knew, that when mind surrenders
to heart, the movement is true. – TS

The Heart of Us

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Our hearts might
have gone to
the moon and back
 
Danced in the light
and free forming
weaves of space,
 
Tied their strings
around the fiery
light of the stars
 
In hopes of some
gentle guidance back
on savage lands,
 
Where dreams that
so scent the night
give way, cruelly even,
 
To what the morning
brings, and we lose
time, even, for shadows.
 
Yet all the while it’s
going on, this tapestry
that is our home,
 
The butterflies teaching
us about fragility and
change at the very
 
Tip of our noses,
the birds that rest and
land and take formation.
 
The trees, always the
trees, with the rocks and
the slippery slopes of moss,
 
And they are not secrets,
even as roots grow inch
by inch below the ground,
 
Reaching our for each other
To make sure each one
is fed, nourished, whole.
 
They are not secrets. They
are the gem inside the fruit,
waiting and regenerative.
 
Doesn’t it sound like our
hearts, beating inside of us,
wherever we go? – TS