Saturday, May 25, 2013

Who Has My Heart

One ponders the limits of forgiveness. One sends a letter and it comes back undeliverable. We travel, all of us, and only share the way a little while. Yet happiness matters. For a while there was that at least.

We drink wine beside the river and talk about dogs and god and have a good cry. There are so many ways to die! We arrange things to work a certain way and they do, mostly. But still. In my dreams you are the woman who waits.

Everything but that was fiction, often elaborate. Who waits is faithful, who yearns remains a student. Lush violets initiate awakening. Doors open, hallways are lit and one turns to poetry to make sense of it. How insistent memory is!

God is beyond conception - ha ha. We think our way into tight corners and expect someone - a parent, a lover, Jesus - to save us. Unfold again, won't you? Who has my heart knows it and needs no more. And yet.

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