The Lessons of the Crystal Heart
The Lessons of the Crystal Heart
She wears scars made of light upon her body, invisible and heavy,
and every tear of hers becomes a flower growing in the endless desert,
she learned to burn in silence in the fire that no longer consumes her,
for her heart is a ruined temple that no longer crumbles to its knees.
She walks through storms that heal her, through wounds that turn to windows,
through silences far louder than the screams she used to carry,
and her love is a gentle paradox: an armor woven out of spiderwebs,
a shield made out of vulnerabilities that cut sharper than any sword.
She no longer asks the moon's permission to shine inside the darkness,
she no longer waits at gates that only open onto empty rooms,
for the lessons of her pain were teachers with silk hands and claws,
and her soul is a burned-down library from which new words arise.
She learned that sacrifice can be a poison, sweet and slow,
that boundless hope is just a cliff in bloom with roses,
and that you have to die in every love you gave away too soon
to be reborn inside the garden where only you can plant your seeds.
Now she walks through labyrinths with her eyes closed and sees it all,
for her blindness is much clearer than the lying light around her,
and every no she speaks becomes a yes said to her own being,
an act of liquid courage flowing through the veins of a waking body.
She is the magnet of her own life, a universe that spins within itself,
and people come to her the way the waves come toward a silent shore,
not because she calls them, but because her presence is a gravity,
an invisible force woven from all of her sacred surrenderings.
Her transformation is a beautiful death that births eternal mornings,
a serpent shedding skin and becoming both the wound and healer,
for the woman who has learned her lessons can no longer be stopped
by her past, which now is only fuel for her silent flight.
In the shattered mirror she sees herself whole, more complete than ever,
each shard reflecting a version of herself that has survived,
and old tears become crystals through which light passes differently,
and her heart, though crushed a thousand times, beats louder than the thunder.
She is the living paradox: vulnerable and invincible at once,
a flame that burns beneath the water, a root that learned to fly,
for the lessons of the heart have turned her into what no one understands:
an unstoppable woman, a mystery that no longer asks to be deciphered.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
