Brok'n hearts
bleeding,
lost souls
searching --
weaken'd
by gaps;
weightless
when one.
A heart that’s whole knows no discomfort. It has pieces that are complete and complementing. There are no deep voids that seek for a fill; no hollow spaces that call for a push.
However, we, ourselves, seem to unconsciously betray our hearts. As humans, bearing the gift of infinity threatens the snugness of pieces perfectly made for each other. We change. Continuously. Our day-to-day experiences mold certain sides of our hearts that soon, we realize, we have developed sharper edges that harm and at the same time, fatter curbs in our defense.
Our partners change just like us. Sadly, however, they do not change their pieces in proportion to ours. They have their own sundry ways of transforming. Often, and without us knowing, we prick them with our own sharp edges. Sometimes, it is us who gets pierced.
This is how the heart learns about discomfort. This is how humans suffer: broken in halves, lost and alone.
Many of us try to make broken pieces fit again by desperately twisting and turning parts of ourselves. We make half-hearted compromises and declarations of forgiveness though we have not really forgotten. We try to cling to others no matter how their edges hurt. We forget about ourselves. Or we think too much of ourselves and shut out all attempts for contact. All these efforts are futile. They result into further, separated disfiguration. We remain weak and apart.
Space: “the boundless regions of the infinite.” Many of us dread to hear the word uttered in the midst of conflict. Painful, it is. But it is the only possibility that a half-hearted act can give best.
After a while, the weight of separation will be lifted. We realize that the heart magically heals itself when it gets to bask in the gift of humanity: to be weightlessly floating on limitless space. This is how people, dance.
Images by Joyce.
