A heart is
a weighted pendent.
So long it stays hidden
under skin, bones, sadness,
grief.
Until someone finds it
Takes it away.
You watch it float up up
Like a red velvet balloon
Until it pops
and you are left to put the pieces
back together.

Grief.
So long is it hidden inside
your heart shaped rock,
wishing to escape,
let loose its rage.
If only a pillow, a wall,
an old china doll would suffice.
That the yells, screams, broken tears
would not tear apart another heart.
A stranger, friend, father, mother
could be safe from the storm.
But grief is a savage beast
which cannot be controlled.
It does not wish to hurt, harm, or destroy.
It is only its nature,
to feed its hungry bones.
A heart too hungers to be free from bonds.
It can only hold so much grief before it breaks,
falls, explodes.
Grief lives within it, but so does joy.
Doesn't joy too have a hand in a heart’s destination?
A hand to rise above fear, sadness, grief.
A leap of faith, hope.

Take off the pendent.
It’s too heavy, cold on your bare chest.
It does not belong to you, your heart, and soul.
A charcoal heart is spurious.
It’s attachment to your home is but an illusion.
Throw it.
Let it break, fall into
lake water.
Let it sink into loving arms.
Its grief will bubble over in the shallow shores.
Let joy spread its white wings.
Listen and you can hear it.
Your heart is singing.