Ramblings of a Porcelain Heart

Faith swirls around me as smoke,

My weary fingertips reaching out

I have loved you, I love you, I will love you

A murmuring beat of the pulse in my wrist

Arms of my spirit wasting away to bone

My strength a memory, nothing more

My bonds, now wisps in the breeze

My heart, a steam engine, sputtering dry

A leper amongst my own people

Fleshless fingers begging you to see again

A child that had big eyes and bigger dreams

In this desperate, skeletal face before you

I have nothing to say, nothing to ask

Sins repented and reoffended until I melt away

Peace was not always so close to emptiness

Hope once seemed a true and constant friend

A true and constant friend, in my heart I am

In my actions, the truth-speakers, I fail

And I fail and I fail and I fail and I fail

God, to take back the silence of words unsaid

Heart of stone, heart of flesh, heart of stone

The beating more wearying than the stillness

At least in my bondage I was fed and clothed

Will I die here in this wilderness alone

Heart petrified in my youthful vigor

Let me go back and snatch it away

From the jaws that forced it to grow armor

That spoke of love and faith with bloody teeth

Better to be in pain than a hollow shell

A lie by those who do not know pain

Better to be in pain than a hollow shell

A truth from the bleeding mouth of sorrow

I would beg for an easier lot, if I did not believe

In the core of me, in the depths of my desperate soul,

That somewhere in the desert, Hope searches for me still

of a fighter and a deer in the headlights

Perhaps with flowers in my hair and

a father who laughed more freely than he yelled

I would have grown as tall as the trees

that I ran to for safety when the ax felled me

Perhaps with a mother who could fly

instead of pulling me into the quicksand

I would be light enough to float above

these waves that dash me against the rocks

Oh, the years I wasted, looking for someone

to take the blame, for someone to confess,

“It was my hand that felled this little sapling!

I wrapped the millstone around your neck”

Was it you father, felled in your own turn,

never answering joy when she called

Was it you mother, stricken by his rage,

only halfway out of your own cocoon

I stare in the mirror, warped by sorrow,

knowing I cannot wrest the truth from it

But who will stand in between me and

this unfixable mirror, and tell me what is true

Will someone teach me a version of life

not wasted in rage or paralysis

Will someone take a branch fallen from me

and cherish it until I bloom again

Will someone wipe my eyes so that

I may see and remember joy’s face

Will someone shine the light so bright

that it burns the bitter sorrow away

Can the heart of a lover regrow

Do you remember when I was sixteen and you were fourteen? Waitress and busboy, whispering jokes as we passed each other—I always laughed more on the days you were there

Do you remember when I was eighteen and you were sixteen? I was home from college and we were on your sister’s floor, snorting sugar packets like cocaine and promising to cryogenically freeze whichever one of us died first

Do you remember when I was twenty one and you were nineteen, sitting on the pier by the lake? The sunset was almost as beautiful as the realization that our friendship was still there and strong even after a couple years of distance

Do you remember when I was twenty two and you were twenty and we stayed up all night? I asked you what this was, all these hours and days together, are we friends or are we more, and I didn’t realize how much the answer would crush me until I was sobbing on the way home

Do you remember when I was twenty three and you were twenty one and my feelings had settled enough for us to be close again? Our friends left halfway through the trip we planned, so it was just you and I, for four days, hiking the mountains in deep conversation and even more intimate silence

Do you remember when I was twenty four and you were twenty two and I called you because my granddad was dying? I said, I know it’s weird to say mostly because somehow we haven’t said it before, but I love you. Thanks for being here. And you said, I love you too. I’m always here for you. You’ve always been there for me.

Did every promise and every miracle

Run through your head, as the sky

—as your world—went dark

When you were too afraid to claim Him,

Did you remember the name He gave,

Cephus, as you crept away in fear

When the flesh hung from His bones,

Did you remember the lepers healed

As He wept, did you remember their joy

When His tears watered the stones,

Did you remember His hand reaching out

Through the waters and lifting you up

When they put the crown on His head,

Did you remember the woman’s hair

Daring only to touch His blessed feet

When they lifted the wine to His dry lips,

Did you remember that first wedding,

Delighting in the wine and in the miracle

When He cried out from that cursed tree

Did you remember His voice calling out

Drawing Barnabas back into His arms

Every promise and miracle dripping down

Disappearing into the bloody dirt

Along with what was left of your hope

Did despair replace faith as He died

As you remembered all but one

One forgotten promise, one yet unseen miracle

Did you collapse in bitter anguish, His voice

Echoing from an unremembered vow

“This temple will be destroyed. But in three days,

I think grief swings along fear's range — sometimes the panic crushing your chest and clawing up your throat, sometimes the cold terror of looking down a cliff face.

Yet grief's worst brother is not the fear, but the selfishness. The icy water of self pity putting out the coals of love, or at least sending a roiling cloud of steam to burn the loves still earthbound.

Oh! to be free, to soar above this mortal coil, no more cursed with this selfishness and fear and grief. Oh, to feel love unfettered from the corruption of this life.

Love. Without condition. Without reason, without requirement, without demand.

To let go of condition is to let go of ego, of expectation, of pride.

My hands overflow with ego, my offerings weighted with expectation, my self offered only with the demand of appreciation. Self protection elevated to my heart's pinnacle, how can I love like that?

Unconditional foolishness, more like, for how can being torn apart make me whole? Let them hurt me? No no, I can protect myself, I am strong. The humble are taken advantage of. I am me. In me l put my trust.

Still.

Can me be enough? I am king of my walled in castle, god of my inner world, and it is so lonely. Full of condition, even in the recesses of my own heart. What if safety has been the foolishness all along?

Love is an easy word. A word to say without thought. But the multitudes it contains? To walk through those without condition? Mercy. Grace. Kindness. Selflessness. Compassion. Tenderness. Honesty. Generosity.

Foolishness. Foolishness! It will tear me apart, You will tear me apart! Do not ask, do not ask, lead me not outside of my lonely kingdom!

Lead me not into the storm with Your promise of green lands and laughing streams. Do not offer me a hope so wonderful as love without condition.

You would rob me of myself. Tear from me my walls of protection. Force me to care for those who would wrong me.

Traitor feet, leaping onto the waters, do not follow the albatross into the storm. He says, courage, but I am sore afraid.

Though the inner wall of the storm tears at every dead and unholy part of me, the peace in the eye is complete. I am still too dead, too unholy to stay here, but for a moment I can see. Strength without pride. Humility without cowardice. Identity without selfishness.

To be whole is to be poured out. To be strong is to be meek. To be great is to be least. To be safe is to offer everything.

I wish I had the time to cherish

The rush of wind in my hair

The bitter cold biting my cheeks

Without the panic of a broken chute

But all I can do is roll out of bed

Go to work, do chores, pay bills,

Try to fix every new problem

Try to not to let my grief touch anyone

To peel back the layers of charm

and humor and kindness and chemistry

And to only find more such gems

Instead of spending my precious hours

Gently digging down another inch

Only to find pockets of deadly gas

They would call me a bitter cynic

I, who have given so many chances,

seen so much beautiful potential,

held so many broken men’s hearts

with tenderness and compassion

Only to have new wounds retorn

Into the scars left by my father

What I would give to believe what I say—

That men are filled with such light and

beauty and strength and courage

Not rampaging, desire-stricken animals

Identified by the pockets of pus

Riddling their deepest and truest hearts

Call me nagging, angry, call me feminist

and then say what you really mean—

A woman who dares tell you to be better

How can I not grow weary of unequal grace,

of my own hard earned life being diminished,

of having my own broken heart cast

You, who took my hand, however brief

Who held me too long and too tender

You! You took my heart long ago

But no, how can I paint myself Beatrice,

when all the while my battered heart

beats only the song of Hero

you. Looking for your car at the gym, at

the store, on the short road between our

houses. Looking for the tiny notification

that you saw my joke. That you laughed.

Of course, I’ll cut my heart and give it to

you, this is not even a question. Of

course, I’ll graft my own flesh to heal you.

Of course, you are my dearest dream.

Perhaps it was always too much.

So I peel away my face and hands away

from the glass between us— that I had

named hope— but was perhaps always

just a glass. Just the barrier that must

always be between your heart and mine.

This girl, this me in my heart that loves

you, is a wild thing. She weeps and she

rages and she grows still. I think, like a

sleeping toddler, she has grown safe to

flee. But her hand grabs my throat and

I realize that I would run into your arms if

you would only open them to me. I would

make your chest my only pillow, your

laugh my only medicine, your kiss the last

I would ever want or need. But I look

and I cannot find your car. Not beside me

or behind me. I do not see any missed

calls or unread texts. I cannot hear your

laugh from this far away. But still, I find

Backlit by the echos of my childhood,

Crouching beneath my natural gifts,

Ducking away from the future’s gaze

Every fiber trembling with restlessness

Find me running—always, always running

Great hopes break on the shores of fear

Home eludes my trembling hands

If I can ever find it, perhaps then,

Just for a moment, I can be weightless

Kiss me back, sweet, distant sky

Let me be light, let my joy be whole

Measure the breadth of my longing

Nock Cupid’s arrow if you dare and

Open this ribcage of desperate desire

Pillage my exposed heart for all it has

Quiet my trembling chest with your arms

Rain love in the gardens of my weariness

Stay here in the waters of my peace

Take what you need, leave what you can

Understand that a heart thrown open

Vanquishes even the darkest of shadows

Wait for me while this dry land heals

Xanthic fields growing lush once more

Yearning hands once again full

This language came with my birth

Written, carved into my bones

But no less difficult to translate

No one teaches you

How to walk to the edge of a cliff

Look down the jagged face of it and

Keep yourself from hurling downwards

I carry the grammar of love with me

These words come with my passion

Stamped, branded onto my tongue

But never to spill into the realm of sound

No one can teach you

How to walk up to edge of hurt

Look into eyes that do not love you and

(how have I never seen that before)

and your hand takes control of mine,

pressing my fingers against your hairline,

caressing the furrowed line with my hand

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe

You are falling asleep on my table

You are falling asleep in my embrace

You cannot sleep in my doorway

(You can sleep in my arms)

I hold you. I hold my breath.

The moment stands firm

No kiss or confession to break the peace

Every bone in my body screaming

What my lips cannot say

Can you drive the two blocks home

Guess we’ll see. It’s a dangerous journey.

I’m not sure I could carry you. I could try

I think you could. I think you could carry me

Do you linger because I do not let go

Or because you do not want to

Finally you are driving away

But I think (or believe) (or hope) that

It would look like the love in my eyes

Shining bright when you look at me

I have never heard a star die

But I wonder (or marvel) (or dream) that

It would sound like the catch in my chest

Bursting out when you touch me

I have never felt a star die

But I fear (or want) (or wish) that

It would feel like the giving in and

Collapsing forever into your arms