"Bubbling up in our own good time-- online."
Groundwaters Publishing, LLC
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Volume 1 Issue 2
Page 10
Page 10
Her heart is hard and closed in tight on itself
Like a blue-black mussel, bound to the rock of her soul.
To say more would imply emotion of which she’s indisposed.
She’d need a crowbar to pry the parts open while still alive.
Her heart took much abuse from her over-extended head.
She exposed it to the wounding shims of others,
Then kept pulling off the scabs that tried to form.
To survive, the bivalve shaped a life of its own.
It grew two shields and shut itself away,
Locked its precious, soft sweetness apart from everything;
To be consumed only if entered by force or altered by fire.
Does the little mouse at the core still live?
Is it too heavy to move or lost completely?
Will I hear its murmur if I wait long enough?
I hope the shell will open once more, unhinge itself
Under the constant, warm tidal water of time
To expose its pearl and feed her innermost part.
Like a blue-black mussel, bound to the rock of her soul.
To say more would imply emotion of which she’s indisposed.
She’d need a crowbar to pry the parts open while still alive.
Her heart took much abuse from her over-extended head.
She exposed it to the wounding shims of others,
Then kept pulling off the scabs that tried to form.
To survive, the bivalve shaped a life of its own.
It grew two shields and shut itself away,
Locked its precious, soft sweetness apart from everything;
To be consumed only if entered by force or altered by fire.
Does the little mouse at the core still live?
Is it too heavy to move or lost completely?
Will I hear its murmur if I wait long enough?
I hope the shell will open once more, unhinge itself
Under the constant, warm tidal water of time
To expose its pearl and feed her innermost part.
| Sarah (an alias for myself) By Judy Hays-Eberts |