inroads

I.     morning

skin
then,
is only half-
an in

II.   flesh

cut a slow
path, – it’s a heart,
you know

III.  sunlight

the way is
opened,
brought to light

IV.   knees

have we
but a beggar’s prayer?

::

15: NaPoWriMo

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My Heart Is Not Here

copy-copy-brownwood-bunny-header

“my heart is not here” -Sir Walter Scott

daily, daily. my problem heart
serpentines through doldrums on-
to distant far-flung roads lurking
along a seventeen mile stretch
to dry sculpted cypress–witch’s
hair hanging from smooth barreled
broom. ready to fall now, flake-by
-flake. off to wind; thin skin on
a cliff doesn’t make a sound just
tangle(s) with light. one leap from
the dust renounces blood ties, the
downed moon, and calendar counts.
my heart is not here, et al.

For Quickly

Crossing the Footbridge

crossing the footbridge
a sound that comes unbidden…
my wild beating heart           -lolly

i don’t think about too young…
even the sapling shoots up   -angie inspired

The Heart of the Matter

I’m going to write this next sentence like it was perfectly typical, but it is not.

A friend underwent quadruple bypass heart surgery and was discharged from the hospital, so my family went to his house with chicken and rice, salad and dessert.

Surreal is a good word to describe recent events. He was running twelve miles one day, and the next he was in line for angioplasty (a fail) before having his ribs cracked and pulled apart for emergency open heart surgery.

More words: incomprehensible…genetic predisposition…miracle recovery…the HEART.

I pretended to understand his near death experience. I audibly gasped. I sighed. I patted his hand and bobbed my head as I listened to him recant his amazing story.

I wanted to know what he planned to do with his life now that he had it back, but what came out was a statement rather than a question. I told him to ask God what He thought he should do. Of course, I was under the assumption that a catastrophic event would lead to some big “aha” moment; one where every thing once familiar in one’s life would suddenly be heightened or at least different somehow, right?

This assumption, undecidedly right or wrong, nagged me into the next day.

I reasoned. His personality probably wouldn’t change. I learned once that people’s predispositions don’t significantly change past the age of six.

I reasoned. His everyday life probably wouldn’t change. Once he recovers, he’ll have to perform all the same mundane activities we all do like washing dishes, and cleaning urine from around the bottom of the toilet bowl.

What would change? Something had to change! Okay. Maybe he’ll be thankful once he heals that he can wash a dish or a toilet again. Bah! That wouldn’t be enough. That would never be enough!

Then, because God was talking to me as much as him, I had an “aha” moment. God is skilled like that, you know. When our friend was hanging on a thread, hooked up to various tubes, he said there was only one thing that mattered.

His heart beat softly as tears welled up in his eyes.

He told us God said, I’m all you need.

So, his story boiled down to this? This was the heart of the matter? God is all we need??

Uhuh. I mean, aha! He is all we’ll ever need. Oh, and atypically, a good surgeon may be required to stitch your chest cavity back together around your re-routed heart.♥♥♥

Wingdings

Don’t know when the paradigm shifted, but I’ve got nerve.  Yep, that’s a less than sign next to the number three!  Shift.  Pucker. Punch.  That’ll send you for a loop, old-timer. Luv u;-)

(The Trifecta weekend prompt:  exactly 33 words, 30 of your own and three of the following:  topple     paradigm     underneath     nerve     honey     loop)