Here is my heart.
It is red. It is strong.

My heart pumps blood throughout my veins.
Without it, I could not live.

My heart is not soft. It is tough.
Not because I am cold or cannot love,
Just the opposite.
My heart is tough because I’ve loved.

My heart can withstand pain.
It has been hurt.
It has been seared.
It has been crushed.

I’ve lain on the floor with wet tears on my face, alone.
Alone, with only the sound of my beating heart.

My heart doesn’t cease.
It’s keeps a constant rhythm.

Beating. Beating.
Repeating.

Hearts are not soft.
Hearts are not weak.
Even damaged hearts push on.

They beat.
They pump.
They tick.
They pound.

Hearts hold our pain.
Hearts become full, with love.
They tune into other hearts and beat, in sync.

Hearts can hold grudges.
Hearts can forgive.
Hearts put roses in our cheeks,
Hearts let us live.

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Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo: elephant archives