I need to tell you how my heart feels about Spring.
My heart has labored, long and hard,
to love men who were wrong for me.
The love of my children and grandchildren
has pushed my heart right to the breaking edges of my skin.
has pushed my heart right to the breaking edges of my skin.
I have flung my heart out in songs and poems
and midnight utterings that go unanswered.
and midnight utterings that go unanswered.
Yet when Spring comes, I am willing to fling it all out there again. My heart gets most hopeful and malleable in Spring. I think about my literal heart and the lifeblood rushing in and out, in and out, every moment of my life. I think about the other things that occupy my heart. My heart is full of hopes, dreams, music, stories, art, friends and children. Is it silly to hope that my very worth is the stuff of the universe; that I have the power to transform sorrow into joy, darkness into light and destruction into new life? I feel foolish sometimes to list on the sidebar of my blog that I am an irrational optimist, but it's true, as true as SPRING.
