Heart and Soul
A poem by Julia R. DeStefano
A queen will always turn pain into power. ~Anonymous
Heart and Soul
Again, and again, and again, I feel it.
The sorrow comes threatening to cast a shroud over the love
that I would wear at the nape of my neck if I could -
a talisman for good that you have gifted me.
I sit on the rocking chair. I swing, legs bare on the swing set.
My mind is a diary, recording everything it sees
in its business of words,
yet blackness seeps in like spilled ink on a page
because every face wears a frown.
My soul is weathered a bit more with each sight.
Dear Love, sit down beside me and understand this wild parade.
A woman is the women who have come before.
But I am, I am, I am Me.
I am more than the tears I have wept,
more than the heart that keeps being torn out of me
and the vignettes that flood my head.
No, I am an ambitious bird beating her wings -
red like a passionate rose -
so full of love
and singing for the thing her body needs.
Then, she sleeps.
© Julia R. DeStefano
