Dandelionlady
I love so much
I love so many
How could I choose one love?
Like choosing one daughter.
My heart is divided,
Not shattered,
Not broken,
Just laid out on the cutting table,
Held in place by pins and string.
The string hangs off the table,
Dangling to the floor,
Connected to hearts far away.
I cut my heart
Briskly, like I cut my daughters meat
Into tiny, neat pieces.
Each perfect part is attached to a string
Leading to another perfect heart.
Some pieces are fresh and pink,
Some have old wounds, ragged stitches holding the bits together.
All are precious to me.
I keep them in library file drawers,
Safe from the ravages of time.
I can practically hear you all saying, “No! She’s writing that poetry stuff again? Why doesn’t she do the stuff she’s actually good at? Like painting or something?”
Well the partial answer is, it’s my blog and I can cry if I want to write poetry if I want to. But also, I find that relating to the creative process through various media, both verbal as well visual can be good for me. It’s like cross training for an athlete. So here’s a sketch to go with it. I feel all Edward Gorey.
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