Transfigured Heart

Carry my heart in both hands. Walk slowly. Sometimes it feels indestructible but it isn’t. Carry it all the way. Don’t hand it off when it gets heavy. Help me to lighten it. Why am I afraid? It has been bruised and broken, torn apart, crushed. My heart, so transfigured, still beats. It’s rhythm a bit slower, unfamiliar, but still my own. Be still, my heart, and, in the silence, listen. Hear the flutter of a thousand valves. Each beats with scars, a history of trauma. Why am I afraid? I trust your hands, your heart. Just don’t drop me again.