If Only My Heart

If Only My Heart

1920 1280 Sarah Rennicke

If only my heart were less prone to gather the rise and fall of earth’s breaths within its breast.

If only my eyes would not drink in the delicate dew of morning’s mist, nor paint the pinwheels of petals blossoming in the birthing wood.

If only my hands would not reach to dip strands of fingers in the calmness of the lake to send it quivering across the expanse.

If only my ears silenced the sweet tinkle of birds, or stopped engaging a symphony of rainfall, whispers of the trees, light lilt of piano’s song.

If only my lips could not praise the sky for the way it dazzled all soft and new, nor fed fresh berries to my tongue, nor even twitch for first close kiss.

Then perhaps my heart might not shatter, a thousand dagger stabs to the sensors most full of flesh, and I not feel the loud and luminous booming of brokenness cutting deep into its caverns.

I could keep my eyes from drowning in a sea of tears turned tragically, no respite, no reprieve, just unending sting of salt straight to my soul.

My hands could not tremble, violently, poise frozen in constant guard to keep the pulse of love and goodness away.

And ears forever tortured by the rise of wailing, willows in a constant state of weeping, hear the drive of desperation closing in.

My lips, too parched with pain to utter pleas for rescue, so draped in sorrow, no longer looking for the touch of its equal.

If I were not cursed with sensitivity, life could not cut me for neither its glory nor its gore. Empathy draws one to the depths of humanity, but what will lift the bleeding heart when it has dropped too far into the reach of melancholy?

Dear heart, be still. Do not play around the mire lest you fall into its snare. Do not dance around the flames of want lest you singe your skin on the embers of disappointment. And do not let yourself fall into the arms of another’s embrace lest you bind your soul entirely at the mercy of that which has full power to cripple.

Do not be deceived, tender one. Of the ways to entangle, many paths wait at the ready. Take courage in this world, for you are not from its realm, and do not for a moment forget the dreams you dream, the way you’re fashioned and favored.


 

Sarah Rennicke

Sarah Rennicke loves words. She also loves people. And she loves weaving them together in honest and vulnerable ways. She loves slowing down and listening to the heartbeats of this world, exploring the hidden hopes and deepest fears tucked away in souls. She believes that God created imagination to truly see His handiwork, and that we are all desiring to be seen, known, and loved.

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2 Comments
  • Sarah, sheer brilliance. It’s reminiscent, albeit with a more hopeful, redemptive tone, of “I Am a Rock” by Simon and Garfunkel. Genuinely excellent piece.

    • Thank you so much for your kind words, Robert. I hold Simon and Garfunkel in high regard and take this comparison with joy and humility. Love your work, as well. Keep up the flow of your pen!

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