The Heart

Heartfulness by Katy Boynton

I have an over-exercised heart 

balancing on one ventricle

making micro movements 

that will keep me stable.

It tones the heart in a way 

it's not intended to be toned. 

The heart is built to beat in perfect rhythm, 

to race when hit with adrenaline and 

to swell in the face of joy. 

It's designed to pump so much blood 

to the lungs and limbs and then 

recover and rest, but to keep on beating. 

It's never meant to be ripped from the chest 

and thrown on the floor; not to be rebuilt 

with barbed wire or rivets like 

the one on the playa full of cargo netting 

baking in the Nevada sun, where I slept 

having run away from our camp, 

feeling so alone and abandoned by my tribe, 

the ones who were supposed to 

help protect me and my organs. 

Aren't the family, the chosen ones 

- or birth family I suppose (I wouldn't know) - 

supposed to act like a protective sanctuary, 

like the ribs? A cage to be sure, but fashioned

to hold and protect the kishkes from harm? 

Not a cage for imprisonment, no.

Not a cage for fighting, like Thunderdome. 

Not a cage for refugees fleeing a war-torn land 

waiting for resettlement in some golden Medina. 

Ideally a real refuge like sanctuary cities 

where one can be protected and heal over time 

in the presence of the Divine. 

I have been searching my whole life 

for that place, those people, 

the circle of beings, a safe-house for me. 

Not those who prey upon me or bleed me dry, 

but who surround me with comfort until 

I'm well enough to stand and 

be a support for them in turn. 

We take turns ideally, I suppose, 

each giving according to capacity 

and receiving according to need. 

Room for every heart.

Andrine de la Rocha

February 2025