An Open Heart

If our love clothed us,
the tears elicited from
disparate poverty of color
would rend our hearts.

Coats of embrace would
cover our naked,
shivering shoulders,
and glossy stitchwork
would mean strength.

Our badges would
honor the framework
we created from accepting
the goodness to be found
in individual humanity.

I wish we could love
without reference to
the pain in our hearts,
nor the skepticism
of our experience.

Instead, we could breathe into
reality the magic of
our dreams, and
create our palaces of
colour and gold in the
faces of our
hope.

I've thought about love today. More so, I've thought about hearts- and their wide open expanse. I've thought about my joy and laughing. I've thought about creating love. I've shed a few tears.

It is necessary against the blindness of the world, to keep our hearts open. The keyhole through which all emotions flow must be well-often used, and clean from frequent passage. There is no other way to live. To cultivate an open heart is at times a struggle against the diet of selfishness which frequents our emotional palate.

How do we continue to give when it seems our breath is sucked away even as we inhale? We continue. In whatever way we may, and with all the hope which lines our vision, we continue. We continue to pray, continue to seek, and continue to serve. The efforts we exert at keeping an open heart energize our faith and enliven our capability. We find ourselves, peacefully, in quiet moments after the struggle; we slump slightly, lean back our neck, and turn our open face heavenward to feel the gentle mist of a life well lived. In giving, we believe.