Not tea, not pills,
not herbs, not tinctures,
not creams, not salts,
not drops, not injections—
what the heart needs
tonight is a song
so true that its cells rhyme
themselves with the beat.
Tonight, the only medicine
this tired heart needs
is to listen.
I just love the implications of your lines “a song / so true that its cells rhyme / themselves with the beat”. I suspect I will ponder these lines all day.
ahhh … I was thinking of how when two heart cells are put in the same petri dish, they will soon find the same rhythm and beat in rhythm with each other … and of course the larger implication for any two hearts that put themselves into the same space …