I once had a dream
about hearing my heartbeat.
What does it sound like? I wondered.
Have I heard my heart beating today?
Does it matter?
I can’t say
in real life
that I notice
my heart
beating.
Does it matter?
In another space
the musing continues:
Is the beating of our hearts
a reminder?
A confirmation that we are,
in fact, still alive?
This matters.
For who, if not our Self, will think of us
if we don’t bother to do so?
Who will care for this secret Self?
Who, if not our Self, will see us here
in our brokenness
if we are blind to us?
Who will care for us in moments of blindness?
Who, if not our Self, will invite us
into the
dance
once again?
Remember: We are the ones we are waiting for.
