Tuesday, February 9, 2016

On Hearts And Valentine's Day

A poem for my four lost lambs on Valentine's Day. Not my best work, but heartfelt.

My body has a heart,
four chambers and that's all

There's another heart
tucked in my soul
The chambers there are numerous,
maybe endless;
I don't know

My body's heart
Is full of blood,
my soul's heart
partly empty

Chambers there
so full of love,
you'd think there was no room;
but there is always room,
as long as there is love

It hurts to have a hollow heart,
even partly so,
but better a painful, empty room
than one closed off;
filled with rubble and despair

There's always room for you
to come and fill my heart


As always, all my love. As always, I am here. Papa

Sent from my iPad


  1. And, for the record: Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
    Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
    So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

  2. Filled with the rubble of despair? This poem went out as written, therefore raw. I will probably polish it.