Have you ever written out your heart
instead of crying.
Have you ever made love
instead of breaking apart.
Not that tears are not words
in liquid form,
a way of mending.
Has it ever taken death
to be more aware of life.
Has the flesh ever been more holy,
than when we know its humanity – its fragility.
Blood and tears, the fluid of life,
the red soft supple give under the skin.
The heart that beats hard against its frame,
knocks at our door.
We’re to hear it, heed it,
before its stilled.
Ana Lisa de Jong