14th Century Poetry

Just sit there right now

Don't do a thing

Just rest.

For your separation from God,

From love,

Is the hardest work

In this

World.

-Hafiz

Another Night on 5 East

He called the nurse's station and asked for a nurse to come quick.
I looked around and no one was around to hear the request but me.
I knew she had been in bad shape.
Of course someone has to go check on her besides me. What if...
Hello? Anybody around? No?? Just me?? Ok, I guess I'll see if I can stall...

"We think she's stopped breathing. Has she?"
What? You're asking me? I'm just a student. There's no way I could possibly know that.
Wait yes there is...that's why I have this stethoscope around my neck.
But I can't tell if she's stopped breathing or not. Yes I can I'm 6 months from graduation. Anyone off the street could figure this out.
Ok just listen. I know what I'm doing.
Wait. I don't think I hear anything. They're all starring at me as if I'm supposed to tell them that.
The husband has tears in his eyes, the son is crouching over her face, the daughter is holding her hand...I can't tell them this. There's no way I have the credentials to determine if a person is still living or not.

Surely someone else has to be on their way. I can't possibly determine this alone.
Yes I can, listen for a heart sound.
But I can't remember where you would even hear a heart sound.
Yes, I do. Little children know what a heart sounds like through a stethoscope. Ok.
Wait..is that her heart? Is it still beating?? No. That's my own pounding through my head. Just calm down.
Feel for a pulse. Yeah that'll tell them the truth.
Wait..is that a pulse? No that's mine I can feel along with the sweat starting to form on my forehead.
I can't tell them she's dead. They are all starring at me. I have to.
I have to say it. They don't even speak English though.
That doesn't matter. Just a simple head nod will give them the sign.
IS ANYONE ELSE COMING YET????? DON'T MAKE ME SAY THIS!!

"I think...I think she's gone."

Talking with God

"I've been wronged"
"I know, I have too Megan"
"I've done wrong"
"I know"
"My world is so dark right now"
"I know"
"Why have things played out like this"
"So you could see me again"
"That's absurd"
"I know"
"I don't know if I can love like you and forgive like you"
"It's ok"
"I don't know if I can hope again"
"You will"
"I don't know how to get passed this"
"I know"
"I've spent too much time questioning if you're real"
"I know. I'm here though...and when you cry I'm there, when you drink to forget everything I'm there, and when you kiss and dream I'm there too"
"That's so hard to believe"
"I know, but look outside and look into the eyes of people...I'm there"
"Everyone left me"
"No they didn't"
"I don't know where to go from here"
"It's ok, you're not supposed to"
"I don't know who I am"
"I do"
"I don't know if I can give of myself ever again"
"I didn't think I could either"
"Why does it hurt so bad?"
"Just the way it is"
"Why is everything so messed up?"
"People mess up and get a lot of it all wrong"
"Does your heart hurt as bad as mine?"
"It always has"

The Human Heart

The human heart is clearly made of flesh. The spark of conception created cells that are solely responsible for its beat. The nerve fibers run continuously and reach every last centimeter of the human body. It never stops. It pounds against the chest wall in hopes of being noticed. And other times it does its work without a single thought.

It's utterly amazing the array of emotions that God created us to feel. We experience them fully. Happiness, sadness, joy, excitement, arousal, sorrow, loneliness, jealousy, depression, fulfillment, security, pain, and contentment.

"The human heart has eyes that the mind knows nothing of" The mind couldn't possibly know what these emotions feel like. Only the human heart can. The small, beating, aching, blood-pumping, life-giving organ.

It's probably intentional that the human heart lies behind the safety of the rib cage. The chest wall is it's fortress. The ribs are its fence. The surrounding tissues are its defenses. And the enclosed sac it lies in covers it like a baby blanket.

I can't help but think that although the heart has this God-given protection, we all still carry our hearts in the palms of our very own hands. It's fragile and made of delicate glass. A unique work of art that could not have a price.

And as we journey through our lives, we carry our hearts. Being careful not to fall, stumble, or slip. If by some chance we loose our footing, we clasp the heart so close to our chests, risking any other part of our body to be bruised except for the frail essence of our entire beings.

We walk and continue to walk. Joining the rest of humanity, who they too, are holding their beating hearts in their small soft hands. Doing only what we're doing, holding the heart while trying not to fall.

Some have their hearts in the same condition as the day they entered the world. But others are holding wounded, broken, barely beating ones. Some have left only replicas of they think a heart may look like. Others may have half of one. Some only have a vein or two left. And some lost theirs completely wondering if they could maybe borrow one.

We join arms and walk alongside each other. Trying to keep this heart safe, although these hands can not do as good of a job as the chest wall. But the person walking beside, keeps their eyes on yours. Maybe pointing out the potholes ahead, or catching it for you before it hits the ground.

Either way, the heart keeps beating. Pumping. Feeling. And if it gets broken, bruised, or damaged...there's always some left and therefore our hands still try to grasp its mysterious beauty.

This House stands for Freedom

These walls are a strong fortress and the roof is made of steel.
The floors stand firm for the flowing waters that come day in and day out.
The waters are sometimes calm and peaceful.
Other times they run full of rage and intensity.

The doors are slammed with emotion.
And the dry wall screams of passion.
The shower drain knows no difference between the running hot water and the tears cried of confusion.
The couches reek of love and the kitchen table knows nothing more than companionship.

The porch swing is filled with questions that we ask it everyday.
Swinging to the song we hear, but knowing not the melody.
Attempting to find answers in the surrounding nature.
Listening to the wind in order to see where it blows.


The pillows are soaked with desperation.
The closets attempt to give us self-worth.
And the mirrors look back at us with blank stares.
Never knowing where we're going or when we're coming back.