Heart Song – A Poem

I checked the mailsmaller song

when I got home.

I opened the mail box

and was nearly blinded

by the light coming

from within. I shielded

my eyes and reached inside.

There was one envelope.

Looking at it, I tried to

blink past the light

to see who it was from.

When I saw the return address,

I knew it could be

only one thing. I went

upstairs, holding the envelope

so gently. While I rode

up in the elevator,

I listened to a soft

music coming from the envelope,

the light pulsing in rhythm.

I waited until I was

inside the apartment,

until I was with him,

to open it. When I opened

the envelope, more light

spilled out and I marvelled

at the fact that a simple

piece of paper could shine so brightly.

“Well, go on.”

He said.

“See what it is.”

I slid the paper out

and saw it for what it was.

The chains that had been

around my writs and ankles

for so long, jingling like

Marley’s ghost, fell away.

The light spilled into me

and I almost turned away from it.

It felt wrong, somehow,

that I should be feeling such joy

at what is normally a

sad occurrence. I ran a finger

over the surface of the paper

and I could swear that I could

hear it sigh in contentment.

I mentioned my thoughts

to him and he put the paper aside

and took my hands in his.

“Look at everything you’ve been through. You would be a different person if you hadn’t been through it.”

I thought of his words and

they struck a chord in me;

it rang out loud to sound out

with the small song coming

from the paper. I thought

of what he said. Had I

not known heartache,

I would not have looked

for something more.

Had I now known despair,

I would not have looked

for true happiness.

Had I not known solitude

when I was supposed

to be overjoyed,

I would have never

learned to be comfortable

with myself; I would

never have looked within

myself to see what I truly

wanted and what I was worth.

Had the one I had been with

loved me completely,

I would never have been found

by the one that loves me now,

each day with him a gift.

So I looked down at the paper

that to some symbolized

pain, rejection and failure

and realized that the one

that I had been with had

given me another gift of sorts.

Through his actions, he had

forced me to forge out

on my own and to see what

I was truly capable of.

What I was truly worth.

I put my hand to the page

and said the only thing I could.

“Thank you.”

At that, the light from the page

increased until it was near blinding

once more and the song coming

from the paper and from inside

of me rose to a higher pitch,

so that the home I now shared

with him, the man that

holds my heart as I hold his,

was filled with my heart song,

bright and pure and true.


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