A Short Poem
I first saw my heart hanging in the sky
and cried, “Share your secrets, Uncommon Heart.”
I was born that day
yet those words are still written,
penned in shadows on the dark hillside,
and still they are sung
by angels on the other side of the bright, blue sky.
What are you now, Old Soul?
A gutted fish?
What cruel fisherman wrenched
the bowels of your years
out of you?
There’s no Truth in Death—
Despite the bitter authority of its decree.
Your heart remains,
molting its human, sublunar shell—
Sun-bound, hung from the clouds—
for love’s sake its secrets tell
of a glad and glorious coming home.