Sunday, March 23, 2008

Your Heart, My Heart

In Africa I wrote in my journal, "I'm smiling at you from across the water, with your heart in my hand."

What does that mean?

One of the highlights of visiting Pantheacon together in February was checking out all the vendors and their exotic wares. In the end we bought something very simple: two little heart-shaped stones -- one for me and one for you -- and exchanged them.

I carry yours in my pocket.

Some time later it occurred to me that now I could accurately say, "I have your heart in my pocket." But I don't say that, because it would give the completely wrong impression! I don't expect or seek the sort of control that statement implies, and I know you would not give it if I did.

I carry "your" heart as a tangible reminder of you.

I touch it when I put my hand in my pocket for change or car keys. Whatever I'm doing I'll remember you and the things I love about you.

Sometimes when I'm thinking of you I reach for it and hold it. It could be only briefly, and never leave my pocket. Or I might take it out and hold it in my hand for a long time while walking or sitting in a meeting.

I love the way the stone warms to my touch. I love its smoothness, and even its hardness. I love how it sparkles in the sunlight.

Sometimes when I hold and feel your heart, I feel hope for us. Hope that we will figure out a future for ourselves.

Other times I just picture you and feel who you are. I remember the times we've had together.


Your Heart, My Heart

If I say,
"Your heart is in my pocket"
you might get the wrong impression!
As if I wanted to control you,
or think I'm in possession.

But its here just to remind me
of the real heart beating there.
Beneath your lively hummingbirds
is the heart for which I care.



(originally posted in Apollo and Laphrodite)

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