As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
—The Wizard to the Tin Man, The Wizard of Oz, Frank L. Baum
Give me a heart that breaks
when I see how cruel the world can be
and hands that extend toward others.
Give me eyes that weep when I feel
the beauty of home, and
lips to speak love, to apologize.
Give me courage to say what must be said
and ears to hear what I’d rather not hear
and eyes that will not turn the other way
from anyone in need.
And give me a brain that is wired
for helpfulness and compassion
and generosity. And give me
a heart that breaks, and grows
bigger in the breaking.
Nice how you pick up that perspective here, out of that cultural icon — the Wizard of Oz. I used to have nightmares from that movie as a kid. But your poem takes them all back, calls for something more human in the way we confront those pains of being human.
Methinks wanting a practical heart is to totally miss the point of hearts. Or, at least, setting one’s sights far too low.
That is so well said. I think I wanted to say exactly that. That could be the poem right there in just two sentences.
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, January 3, 2015 at 6:42 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Watching The Wizard of Oz on New Year¹s Eve, I Think of a Resolution”
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