In Honor of the Journey

A heart, a heart, a tiny heart

A heart so small and so confined

It cannot hear, it cannot bleed, 

It does not know, it is not free

A heart, a heart, a growing heart

A heart awakens, ever so slightly 

Begins to taste, begins to see, 

It feels the change, it thinks its free

A heart, a heart, an aching heart

A heart feels pain and says “no more,

I liked my small and happy space”, 

It does not know what freedom is for

A heart a heart, a bleeding heart, 

A heart conflicted, a heart that surges

Blood everywhere, demanding more

It cries, “This cannot be what freedom is for!” 

A heart, a heart, a weary heart, 

Long gone the steady rhythm before, 

The mess it has made, cannot imagine more

Too tired to look for what is free

A heart, a heart, an arrested heart, 

Comes to a halt, out of flow, 

Gives up waiting in the dark, gasps for breath

Does not know if it wants freedom anymore

A heart, a heart, a waiting heart, 

Is there such a thing as hope? 

Stops to wonder, stops to listen, 

Longs for what it does not know

A heart, a heart, a broken heart,

Tears that flow now it can own

Tears of others find their home

A tiny light, emerging, slow

A heart, a heart, a growing courage heart, 

Many things no longer needs to know

But trickling, an increasing flow 

New kind of life begins to grow, 

It bleeds, it hurts, such wounds to see

But also joy, becoming we 

No longer does it wish to flee 

It has found Life, a mystery

It is, and is becoming, free