The Heart

Why does the heart linger? It cannot be prodded or goaded or urged. And, so, it remains. It cannot be moved; it can only move…and only when it’s ready.

I was standing on the dock, poised to embark, yet the heart mourned and wept. It wept for Home. Home, which was comfort and peace and joy. Home, which was love. But it wasn’t Love. And that’s why I stood at the dock. Like an orphaned child, the heart couldn’t be left. But it couldn’t be coaxed either. I had to choose.

The choice had to be swift, lest the pleadings of the heart erode my resistance. In the moment, it was simple, really. Just two steps onto the deck. And, as quickly as it happened, I was asea. Easy to perform. Hard to endure.

Before long, I began to mourn. To mourn the heart. I found that confusing, since I needed the heart to mourn, yet the heart I did not have. How cruel that a cosmic impossibility would be overturned for the sake of my own suffering.

Drenched in suffering, I did all I knew to do. I beckoned the heart, though the fog had since obscured the dock. I begged for it to meet me on this journey, on this voyage of promise. I shouted until my voice left me. Perhaps the voice found its way to the heart.

And now I don’t know. Does the heart still stand on the dock? Is it withering in its solitude? Those two steps…way back on the dock. They were easy to perform, but they are hard to endure.

Why does the heart linger? It cannot be prodded or goaded or urged. And, so, it remains. It cannot be moved; it can only move…and only when it’s ready.

Are you ready?