I wear my heart in my throat
Sometimes what I say scares people
because I forget transitions and social conventions
of easing into things. What that amounts to is that
I go straight for the throat. I mean, I go straight to
the heart of the matter. It’s not really that I even
try to do this –
I just don’t see any other way
And it’s a double-edged blade because
it’s all well and good to cut to the chase –
something so many people applaud because they’re
tired of beating around the bush –
but it’s another beast entirely when you feel pursued
as the topic of interest and while I don’t see any other way
of talking, I do see things you want to hide and
I see patterns and themes, like reading the matrix,
when suddenly all the bullshit falls away and
the only thing left standing is truth
and someday, I’ll learn the art of easing into it
My heart lives in my throat and it speaks a little too
honestly, a little too purely for people’s comfort levels.
When anahata married vishuddha and moved in,
the judgments started falling away and a compassionate
understanding arose, blossoming lotus-wide.
My voice changed frequency and began sending out
subliminal messages to people I spoke with, letting them know
that they would find safety in my presence and so they
share more of themselves when we are with each other
connections deepened, we are able to travel further
in our journeys together than either of us would separately.
There is a problem, though, with my fingers.
The problem with my fingers is that when I type,
there is a different sort of voice and this voice
is denuded of all safety and safety precautions
I wear my heart in my throat,
but sometimes, I wish
I could wear it spanned across my fingertips, too.