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I Have This Heart

I Have This Heart

i have this heart, in my hand

it’s tangled and a mess,

it thinks its name is adam

and that happiness is best

yet i say “no, that’s not your name,”

“heart of mine, be still” yet

it won’t comply, it’s hard

as rock, (and wounded, better still)

ah, dear heart, wallowing

why thumping do you go?

the beat you meet

is beyond your keep

and the blood is black and slow.

who am i, to tell my heart

to stop and change its mind?

it’s unfeeling mess is mine

and i’m falling all the time.

there is a name, better still than

adam, or abraham, yet

my lips cannot form the

sweetness of the fragrance.

so apart from me, o name,

who am i to ask again?


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