The heart is a balloon.

Class: 2p-3p, "Flower Hour", Katrina.

Some kind of scramble
Some kind of inside out type of game
Shoulders clench
Invisible muscles
Hold together
Push and grip
If I could breathe there
Place a big balloon there
That might pop
Burst in liquid
And like a sigh it might descend
Just a single impulse
Sliding down the spine

If there is a path to grace
And if I might be allowed to travel it,
Trust me,
I would.

And so, if I am to venture there...
How how how?

Look, this is what I know:
My thoughts mean something--and I mean they mean something about the
meaning of the world around me
My breath means something--and I mean it means something about the
construction of my cells and my ability to be open and available in the
world
My body is not separate from my mind
My mind is not separate from my mind, and
It is possible to release and relent...
It is possible, I mean, to work with the mind and the body
It is possible to contact Being,
Which is something larger than body
Or mind

It means a breathing
It means a deep forgiveness
Like so many handfuls of stones
Being thrown into a pool
It means a wide-open heart
And wide-open eyes
And it means stepping straight right onto the juicy footpath of my life
I know all these things

And still my heart is full of questions.