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A Beating heart, years uninterrupted,
(amazing, a gift from God in it's incredible steadiness)
can, within the chambers and tubes,
with enough passing seasons
build the dreaded hated plaque-
(Rhymes with heart attack) and for good reason-
reducing flow of pulsing blood,
restricting life itself in slowing pounding tiny flood-
Bad enough, yes, this inner obstruction,
but more hurtful still the outer;
the invisible loss of faith- the destruction
of our youthful wonder;
our ever eyes wide in delight where all is splendid, unique-
a child's openness, as natural (to them) as air-
normal, nothing special to a child there-
(at fifty years worth more than gold, sought and found by letting go).
This faith in life, scraped detritus of decades long,
this calcification, if you will,
killer of simple thrills by covering, tarp-like
even the chance to open doors leading to new friendships, thrills....
(cynical heart whispering, reminding mind of prior letdowns).
BUT! I've found a friend my heart will leap for, to and fro
in celebration of his beating heart- his so clean of sacked
enclosure- open to life's exposure....
RR is teaching me (albeit from across the sea)
that not all is bad, the heart can still observe, engage indeed in
respect and caring, Joy! It can still learn-
to him I say thank you in the language of this poem...
But I'll wrap this up post haste,
lest it become a tome.

This poem is Copyright © invierno