I was looking through a wonderful art book by one of my favorite painters and illustrators, Tara McPherson. I am sure that I have mentioned on other blog posts how much I admire and love Tara's work, it's very haunting, and sad, and poignant. Underneath it though, there is a kind of wonder and mischievousness. Any time I am having a bad day, or feel sad, I can look through her art book and find inspiration. Some people may be motivated by authors, I have always found art to be a great motivator for me. I have no talent for art, I can't paint or draw, my art has always been words. But any time I look at a painting, or drawing, I have such an appreciation for the talent involved, you're creating an image of thought into form without words. And that really moves me.
Anyway, as I was looking through Tara's book, Lost Constellations, she did a series of paintings with a woman who had a heart shaped hole in her chest. Those pieces, so sad and fierce, inspired me to write this poem. Hope you like it.
The Heart of Me
I tried to feel my heart,
But felt an empty beat.
Didn't even feel the pain,
To numb for the defeat.
No prison held it hostage,
Not a cage of iron bar,
It simply wasn't there,
Just escaped so very far.
When I looked into the mirror,
The wound seeped no blood,
I saw the heart shaped hole,
Where tears flowed like a flood.
The water left a salty trail,
Pouring from my soul,
I thought the pain would hurt me more,
This part of me that wasn't whole.
I never cut it from my chest,
Or had it ripped apart by love,
My heart had simply left me there,
To float away, up above.
It longed for any kind of feeling,
Its wants were a simple cost,
To feel the flush of newborn love,
Or even of pain of ache not lost.
But all it knew was solitude,
The lone and lonely passage of time,
Until the day it could take no more,
For neglect was my greatest crime.
Now I'm left with this scar,
And a trail of dried, salty teared,
I'll never feel love or loss,
For the heart of me has disappeared.
End of Line.