If Her Heart Were a Flower
If her heart were a flower,
it would never cease to bloom.
Nourished by love from an endless spring,
lilac and rose and aquamarine buds
would sprout each day
on branches that reach
ever skyward to dance
with clouds and rainbows.
“And I can’t stop smiling,”
she said, slightly under her breath,
though a stranger walking by
might have heard her.
I listened to the recording of this poem yesterday, and it was just the reminder I needed for right now. Then I listened to a podcast interview with poet, psychologist, and philosopher Dr. Bayo Akomolafe and had this imaginary conversation between me and myself in my mind.
me: Bayo Akomolafe says, “The times are urgent. Let us slow down.”
me: But when I slow down, I feel things.
me: And what do you feel?
me: Sadness. Delight. Tenderness. Fright.
The stillness of a starless night.
The ocean. The waves.
The breeze. A maze of unpredictability.
It’s everywhere and all around.
Above, below, and beyond.
Heartache. Joy. Complacency.
me: And what do you make of all that?
me: The feelings are all there, all at once.
Sometimes it feels too big for me.
But when I really slow down.
I mean really, really slow down,
I begin to feel the beating of my heart,
the gift and the urgency of being alive,
and recognize that love is spacious enough
to hold the paradox of it all.
me: And what can emerge from that paradox?
me: Absolutely anything.
Wishing you space to slow down and feel the possibilities in the paradox.