Of All My Heart

My heart is an impossible zoo,
Transplanted a few centuries ago
From the left side of my chest
To the middle of my head.

Curiosity races through dense grassland
As judgment towers high above,
Bending down to drink from pools of memory
While watching for anger and fear lurking below.

Yet as all things do with time,
The long edges grow fuzzy,
The habitats stretching loosely
Down my neck, my back, my toes.

Swarms of shame flutter in my stomach
And worry hops from wrist to shoulder
To forehead, where anxiety sits,
Waiting to squeeze and paralyze.

Still, at least you can still find love and bliss
Galloping together from my ears to my eyes,
Their rhythmic steps blurring worry’s path
So that it gets lost along the way.

And you might hear gratitude and calm howling
So loudly that all the predators hide away,
Letting joy perch safely in my cheeks
As care swims down to my hands.

Hope is a handed-down drum

Hope is a handed-down drum,
Worn out over decades of use.
I hold it in my hands, over my head
And let the rain pound down upon it
The music drowning out the deluge,
Letting me walk through the storm.

Sometimes, after a fierce hail,
Some wayward drop will pierce
Right through the battered top.
Suddenly I fear any light shower
Might fill it up till the water’s weight
Breaks through and drowns me.

I rush to the nearest friend
And ask for shelter and fabric
And time to piece it together,
Until I can spend the hours I need
To repair my drum properly
Once I am safely at home.