Poem -
Stitched
They say she did too many drugs -
that's why I was born with the hole in my heart.
I have my own story.
The leak was self protection
from the sheer density of emotion
that would someday sludge
through my veins
If only they hadn't sewn it up -
maybe then I could float away.
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Comments
Jennifer,
I, too, was born with a hole in my heart.
Isn't it odd that an image/idea which is ubiquitous in literature and art; the heart as the seat of the soul, the source of love, etc: becomes so deeply and specifically personal when there's something wrong with your own? I sometimes refer to my heart as my 'imperfect beat' in my writing; which seemed less funny, if more apt, a couple of months ago when I almost died of ventricular tachycardia!!
We all have a finite number of beats, imperfect or otherwise, and we should talk and write more about that.
Beautiful poem.
Jason