My hand writes but my heart doesn’t. My mouth challenges my heart, but my heart keeps its silence. The brain and hand are hard at work, but the heart holds silent. It seems to be on slumber mode, frozen somewhere in time, unable to snap out of it. What puts the heart to sleep. Ideas it has been fed all its life, told to shut thoughts, which aren’t acceptable, even though they may be right. Those thoughts may have names, they may need to be spoken, but because they challenge your concepts they are unacceptable.
Why are words so heavy, why can’t they just be read for what they are. Maybe because every word has strings attached to it. Every word pulls and draws strength from the heart. And the heart, the closest and most private part of your being, just can’t let go. Just can’t throw the gauntlet and take up the challenge, and say what it has been taught all its life not to say.
So breathe dear heart, the gentlest softest whisper of a dove’s wing, and let go of the chains and shackles that pull you down
You can’t unchain a heart that has been forever locked, and the key thrown away. It’s a prisoner to itself. The soft thudding prisoner, that reminds you of its presence, by the soft gentle beat. A beat that you don’t even know exists, as you run around the circus of life. And then one day, the soft gentle heart just ebbs away, on some quiet shore of life. Carrying with it, all it’s untold stories, it’s wishes, it’s dreams, all it had hoped for, quietly locked away in the prison within.
As it leaves you, it feels the pain of not having spoken, of so many lost words, all jarring for release, locked away inside. But never once, does it chastise you for its silence or its lost need to break it. Even in its passing away it gentles it for you. All you feel is what you are leaving behind, and the heart forgets it’s self, for the last and final time, to rest in peace.
Be easy on your gentle heart, remember it, remember its beat, remember its needs, and its need to speak. Don’t be unfair to the beat that gives you life, and in the gentlest whisper keeps reminding you, “I am there.” Locked away in the recesses of your being, crying out to be freed. To be able to breathe, let out all the voices that have been resting within. It’s not as bad as it seems, to let me speak. Life needs to learn, that thoughts are to be spoken, words can be made easy, and the voice of your heart needs to be heard.
Bless you sweet heart, you keep beating, breathing, with all the unspoken words trying to suppress you. But, you never give up your end, until man decides to take that away from you also. So breathe dear heart, the gentlest softest whisper of a dove’s wing, and let go of the chains and shackles that pull you down. Because you were never meant to be tied. You were meant to fly, to touch the zenith of the sky.
Published in Daily Times, September 15th 2018.