I feel so weird today. Like there’s a light fog slowly anchoring me to the earth with an unassuming softness, as if its gentle reprieve is a mask for something far more sinister and clever than I have courage to conjecture.
And yet, my weary spirit hesitates. Unfamiliar with true peace, my body grows increasingly vigilant of disorder buried in the gaping depths of my memory. An unlikely oasis where old pain laid my peace barren. It sits squarely in the center of my back, between my shoulders. I feel it tighten when I laugh. It holds me up when my soft heart hardens against the world. I’m just a walking heart.
I can’t say for sure what holds me together when I no longer have the strength to do it myself. When I fall apart, I think I am the oasis in this dessert. I like to think it’s the strength of my ancestors built into my bones. I like to think it’s because I am a walking heart brimming with love and when some spills over, the universe saves it for whoever needs it and some days it’s my turn.
I feel weird today. I know this fog. It used to be a heavy, dirty grey. Today I see pink like cotton candy. I think it’s because I am a walking heart.
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