Breath & Heart

I long to write in a measured way.
Like the beating of a metronome,
pulsing with a click and the faint hint of a bell.

The chime of Buddhist meditation bowls, calming the mind,
the bell of a church tower, calling people to prayer,
the school bell saying it’s time to go home,
the clock tower bell, signalling the end of one hour and the start of another.

I hear simple three chord melodies in a minor key,
full of flutes and oboes and piccolos.
Not strings, with their sharp snap of noise that ends the moment the bow stops moving
but music caused by breath.
And the deep pulse of drums like a heartbeat.

Where are the words that sound like the breath and the heart?
Not sharp and brilliant,
not seen but heard.
Floating on the breath and beating with the blood in my veins.

Primal, visceral, earthy, ancient.
Telling stories, announcing, remembering, celebrating and mourning.
A song I can’t forget.
The one I hum without knowing it.

I long to write in a measured way.
To call with the ringing of a bell
And to reply with my breath and my heart.

♥♥♥

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