Lisa-Jo over at the Gypsy Mama writes words of beauty and truth that spin across continents and computer screens. She helps us laugh and delight in the world, and the words. On Fridays we write for just five minutes - let our words fly free and clear. Won't you join us?
This week it is about "tired."
Some days I want to take my heart out of its ribcage and look at it in the palm of my hands. I want to feel it beating, feels its shape and its scars and all the history it carries.
Some days I am tired of it breaking. I am weary with the running around and the waiting and the trusting blindly as I wander forward and the disappointment and the candles lit at noon that seem to give no light. I am weary with waiting to be full that I run outside, heart in my hands to God and say, please, won’t you come running to me? Won’t you come find me, and send your rainclouds to this desert?
And still I hold this heart in my hands and I offer its words to the world and I wait to know who will hold it, who will know its secrets and wonder about its stories and who will carry me for a while when I can’t carry myself.
And still my heart keeps beating. The weary heart beats when it is empty. The weary heart beats even when it cannot have what it longs for. The weary heart beats.
The weary heart beats out hope. The weary heart bears the burden of belief when it’s too heavy for the rest of us. The weary heart pushes out towards the sunrise.