My heart aches


My heart aches to realize

what exists before I decided

my heart aches.


I am tired of me, oh so tired of me,

because I’ve tasted

what encompasses this tiredness.


Anything I say can be viewed from

the sky, the moon, the quivering earth.


What exists before the first word

keeps me awake at night.


(Keeps who awake at night?

Don’t fool yourself, you are

the kept, the awake, the night.)


Every time I say the word “I”

that which created the word “I”

laughs uproariously.

Yet I claim the “I” again and again and yet again.


Where do you turn

when turning brings you back to where

you started,

where you never left,

where you grinned,

before your heart ached?


Defenseless, I reach for defenses

to avoid that which ultimately

encompasses your every thought,

your every assessment,

your clicking to the next moment,

your aching being beneath


rising moon.


18 thoughts on “My heart aches

  1. Now I’m truly glad I found you! I write a bit of poetry myself although it’s been a long while since I have…and this just touched my core…the place where I grin even though my heart aches…

    • Dear Harsha, I grin often even when my heart aches. I think when we’re truly alive we’re often aware of that heart-aching and joy simultaneously. (Although sometimes we’re ignoring one or the other, aren’t we?) Thanks for visiting here, too.

    • Thank you, Crazygoangirl. I LOST your comment. It went into hiding until just now it consciousness brought it forth. I swear it wasn’t a defense mechanism!

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