When Songs Came Easily

 

When Songs Came Easily

(“God, create a clean heart for me and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10)

It is hard to find your heart in the snow and fog,
isn’t it?
And when the silence sounds like avalanche clouds
it feels like someone has
hidden it.

Something disrupted the rhythm, someone pounded it like a drum,
someplace you left it behind, somewhere before first and begun.
You knew it had been perfect once, you embraced the days of
warm grass and girls with braids. You picked wildflowers for their
hair.

You weren’t sure if it was broken or just over-exposed,
but the weather grabbed your throat every time you spoke
about another day tied in knots. Frayed at the ends and
twisted in the middle, you were not traumatized by your hurt,
you were traumatized when you were left alone with
your hurt
even when
you told the
best of them
that your ache was about to destroy you,
that your skin was fragile, that you could use an angel
or a vagabond,
or anyone with arms that sounded like
mom frying eggs for breakfast.

It is hard to find your heart in the prose and smog,
isn’t it?
And when the thunder sounds like approaching locusts
if feels so illegitimate.

You would get over it if, mirrored by a friend, you
discovered it was still the same
as the days when songs came so easily
and no one was shy about kissing you on the cheek.