If you look closely, you might see
That I walk with a lean
Bending toward the left
Trying to hold up this heart of mine
A heart full of rocks
The weight of those rocks
Swings my heart like a pendulum
Their solid masses moving to and fro
With the rhythm of my gait
They tumble about
As my feet burn into the day
Like a signet into melted wax
Where did these rocks come from?
The young man whose giant stature cowers to fear;
The girl whose sideswept bangs point to pleading eyes;
The boy who kneels at the altar but sees not the High Priest;
The loved ones who want my service to have a deadline;
The longing to write what I have never written;
The answers still hidden behind a curtain of time
This heart full of rocks
Sometimes grows weary with its cargo
A cache of precious stones
Jagged enough to bruise the walls that enclose them
But polished by the whispers of communion
Unable to rend their vessel
But displacing enough comfort
To remind me that I have a heart at all.
