Our Great Heart

 

when we hear of those

who do not recognize the face they hate

as their own

then we must hold them

we must hold ourselves

we must hold each other

we must have a Great Heart

a heart greater than the fear

there are so many stories past telling

so much pain, so much bravery

the vivid colors of the now cannot retain them

they fade some are near peace

some are resigned some are afraid

stories that have been told

stored restored retold

untold unclear unremembered

I read of sailors awed by mushroom cloud

in a test, which sent old ships to the bottom

while new crew swabbed the decks

of surviving ships still afloat

the men chanting and cheerful, unaware

of the awful poisons leaching into them

who remembers these ships?

these men?

who remembers the lives of japanese

who burned or crumbled into dust

are there stories in the ash?

in the severed atoms?

who remembers the stories of children

who left early

children never born

only the Great Heart knows these stories.

only ours, not yours or mine, but Ours.

only ours is big enough for all these stories

the stories of old loves

how the self dissolved into the other

separation went away

who can remember now, clearly

what that was.

was it sharp, vivid, bright, ecstatic?

or soft and subtle

these colored stories fade, into pastels

past telling

like the colors of the sun

shining through the mushroom cloud

of stories ending

can our heart hold all this?

can our stories be given back

to those who have left

those we have killed

those who left us

those we have abandoned

man, creature, flora

planet, moon, star

each with their own shadings

each with their own shadows

can we pass the stories on

to those who come after us

even if what we remember

is but a wisp

a whisper

of what went before

all these stories in our heart

Our Great Heart

or, if not, we have no heart

Our Great Heart

Our Great Heart

or there is nothing

anymore

and never was

—John Sacelli—

 

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