Written 18th July, 2026 for submission to Hymn of the Heart Poetry Contest sponsored by Hiya Sharma
“The heart sings loudest when it has been broken open.”
— (unknown / contemporary wisdom)
I part petals like quiet psalms. I hear these hibiscus hymns pressed to the pulse of morning, where colour hums in crimson breath, and the wind remembers my name. It comes unbidden. The song my soul never seeks, it finds me anyway, threaded through my ribs. A tremor beneath my thoughts, an ache I cannot unlearn. I feel a violin verse between venom and Venus, drawing its bow through my silence. Each note, a kiss. Each chord, a wound. I taste love dripping with poison. I feel beauty’s sting like truth. And still it rises in me. The chorus a poet bleeds restless, unstillable, moving in tides of ink and ache. A refrain carved deep in my marrow, learning the language of my silence, singing me open again. And again. Until I am lifted beyond breath. I kissed an opera octave— full-throated, trembling, infinite. And in that surrender, my heart, no longer silent, becomes the hymn itself.
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