The way grass belongs to the meadow—
how without it, the meadow
would not be meadow—
this is the way you belong in my heart.
Not that I’ve made a space for you here,
more that you’ve helped make my heart what it is,
and without you, my heart is not my heart.
I cradle you here as in a nest of wheat—
soft home, humble home, ever rewoven
to fit the changing shape of you.
It’s not true our hearts are our own—
they’re symbiotic as meadows in spring.
The heart exists for who grows in it.
Who am I? Who am I?
You, my sun, my grass, my wind.
oh my goodness it’s gorgeous!
the first three lines in the last stanza remind me of what I learned about hummingbird nests – they start out thimble sized and expand as the nestlings grow – due to the hummingbirds’ natural instinct to find multitudes of spiderwebs to weave into the nest to accommodate their growth and development!!!
such a lovely womb is this heart…. Lovingly ~ Laegan
oh friend, it was a powerful poem to write … did some good work in me understanding the ways we belong with/to each other
Hi Rosemerry, so soft and full of how hearts grow in love…. leaves me soft and soothed?
j
yessssss. soft and soothed–thank you, Joanne ❤️
This poem is exquisite, it was shared with me by a dearest friend, as I mourn my father and we spoke of that not-knowing where he is now. He’s here, somehow, in my heart. And my heart, yes is ever changing, re-shaping to fit those we love as they come into our lives, those that leave. I found your words to be so true, you have given breath & shape to one of our truest experiences. Which is beyond comforting, although it is calming – it’s being seen in our very vulnerable humanness, a calm hand reassuring, this is how it is, this is how it goes.
Thank you.
Dear Filipa, as you continue to meet the physical loss of your father, my heart opens to your heart. And as you continue to find your heart shaped and reshaped by the love you share, I celebrate you. Thank you for your kind words. Wishing you deep peace.