Trusting the current of the heart

No map, just rhythm.

At any moment
of any day—

Check your chest,
your wrist,
your neck.

Your heart is holding
your song,

Beating to its perfect
rhythm,

Keeping your time through any
crescendo—

This has somehow become
unremarkable,

Except maybe to our
canine friends.

Or measured, tracked,
and pathologized.

Such a fall from
grace.

Can we remember
who we are?

That our songs are always
seeking harmony—

With no effort
from us.

Quietly keeping our delicate minds
out of real trouble,

Drawing us to support
one another,

Shared through the common
experience of loss.

My heart to your heart—
Namaste.

You fill my world
with your song.