Skip to main content

Heart Attack/Letting Go

Heart birthing
with no one to call
hours worth of
war waged

beating outside of time,
false rhythms
too fast
for too long.

How much can the heart take?
How much can it carry?

split down the middle
one side says
inhale deeply now,
the other obeys

ribcage expands
unnaturally
to make room for the
untempered organ

contraction confused
with Expansion.

How much can the heart take?
How much can it carry?

bearing down
Breath whispers its
Proof of life.

Making room for
surrender

to worse
case scenarios

to death.

to realizing you
never had
control

but had yet
to understand what
that meant

even after all this time.

Heart sways in and out
cold limbs
more pacing
more racing

How much can the heart take?
How much can it carry?

Breath still
Proof of life

Stranded between
rock solid sensations and
something in the midst

calling

one hand extended
holding All within it,
the heart its mighty symbol

How much can the heart take?
How much can it carry?

Sweet release

Riding breath

that carries even the
most untamed heart

needing no beat
for its song

stands lovingly aside
as assumption exalts heart to
quintessence

constant
rise and fall

contraction and expansion

the whole

holds

sustains
calms
nourishes
cradles

becomes the waves that carry
the dying heart
onward.

Comments

  1. You are a woman of such courage, my friend. I should have added you to my "getting lucky" list...I am so lucky to have you in my life.

    These words are beautiful & deep.

    I love the way the words "How much can the heart take?
    How much can it carry?" keep repeating. A work of art you have here, a true expression of your beautiful self.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brooke, my heart resonates with yours and asks the same questions. Thanks for openness and courage of your heart, the sureness of your breath.

    ReplyDelete
  3. "breath carries
    even the most untamed heart".
    this is good news.
    thank you. xo

    ReplyDelete
  4. I am blown away by your words. They are beautiful and deep. You are brilliant and connected and full of love, depth and heart. thank you for this. It should be published in a book.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com
Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, magic for the neighborhood…

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…

Storyholder

Photo by Ben Herbert on Pexels.com

I’m standing on a cliff overlooking the water’s edge. The sky is present, hanging there in its vastness, holding this moment with symphonic strains of gray and electric buzz. Watching, suspended, sensing.

I see to both sides of me vast white cliffs carved out by relentless grasping of the ocean extending down the coastline.

The earth where I am standing up above gives just the right yield and welcome, with its soft grass and dainty yellow flowers, falsely giving the impression of delicacy, when anyone can see that they are hardy to withstand the harshness of forces here.

There is an undeniable tightness of gravity here, pinning me down, tugging at me, slowing down my step. I feel as if this force could just sweep me away with the littlest of a flick, like an ant off the table. It screams danger while it beckons.

My life had been recently taking on new grander design dimensions when this place and I met. Dating a new man, after being a single mom for…