the heart explosion.
Sometimes I’m so full of love for this world that my heart tells me secrets. She sends wishes to the universe, explaining that she would like to fill right past the point of to-the-brim. Because my heart knows that past the point of to-the-brim, she would likely explode in every direction to litter herself around the smooth edges of this spinning sphere.
I’d watch pieces drift, like pollen, until every last bit of this living drum had taken new residence outside its cage.
As the dust of my splintered bones settled at my feet, I’d glance at the gaping hole—the scar of a free heart.
I’d wait with longing eyes, wondering what exactly I would do now that my heart is so very gone. But I’d know—not in my heart of course, but in my stomach—that longing eyes won’t bring those scattered pieces back.
So I’d step out on my quest for a piece—any piece would do—of my exploded heart; a keepsake, a treasure, a token of my humanness. I’d walk city streets and country roads. I’d pad soft, struggled steps through desert. I’d scale trees.
I’d search with an anxious brain spinning. She’d chatter worries into the wind: you’ve neglected this heart of ours, child—and now she’s in pieces without her home.
With these words I’d worry too; and my steps would find themselves quicker—called upon to rescue a broken heart. With these words, phantom pains would bubble up inside my chest and for a moment I’d be sure she had come home.
But not until I peeked around a maple would I see it: a heart fragment—resting, pulsing, praying—in a leaf, an offering to the ancient woods. And when my eyes captured the subtle, tiny beats, I’d realize the pain had vanished. There was no heartache to coat with worried words after all.
I’d stand next to the oak as my eyes drifted shut.
I’d tell my brain to hush and I’d tell my body to slow and I’d feel them. I’d feel every last beautiful bit of this exploded heart; and without this brain to confuse her direction, without this body to muddle messages, the heart-sad and the heart-pain would be gone.
Only love would remain.