The Place

 

The Place

This year, 
all of the hard to reach places,
difficult situations and difficult people
are falling away,
and I’m letting them. 
I need an easier place for my heart.
Some gentler place
where my heart fits.

Meanwhile…
I’ve been misplacing everything,
and now it seems
that it’s my heart that I can’t find.

Knowing myself,
I know that I will never find it by looking,
but instead, must wait until I chance upon it
in some spot where I would never think to look.
Some place where it has been placed absent-mindedly
to free my mind for other tasks,
or perhaps  where a part of me kind to myself
knew it would be safe for awhile
while I was not in need of it

So I’m not looking for my heart.
Instead, I’m trying to build a new place
so that if I ever find my heart, it will have
a spot that it fits into just right.
A spot that has been prepared for it.
A warm spot and cushioned
away from elbows extended
just right for knocking hearts off ledges

The place for my heart
will not be a  high place–
no careless place that earthquakes
could spill it from.
It will not be a low place–
too near toes that might stumble
over a heart brought low.
It will not be a place in direct sunlight
that might fade a heart away.

The place for my heart
will be a handy place.
A place I don’t have to think about twice.
A dependable place like the door of my refrigerator:
grocery list, dentist appointments,
art openings, family pics,
and my heart—
here in this busy place near
other necessary things.

A place like that
is where my heart will want to go
once I get it back again
from wherever it has fallen
or been kicked to
or hidden.

In a whisper,
probably at night
while I am sleeping,
it will come into my dreams
with  a plan for where to put us both.
So I will dream harder,
watching for the heart I barely even recognize.
Listen  for its whisper.
Listen  for its shout.
Let it grab onto me and pull me after it.

Because while I’ve been building
the place for my heart to go,
it has grown so large that it no longer fits
inside of anything;
so that when I chance upon it,
my heart will just open its arms
and welcome me in.

Retablo, “Restoring the Peace” by Judy Dysktra-Brown  jdb photo

For the Ragtag prompt, heart.

4 thoughts on “The Place

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