Reclaim Your Heart
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Reclaim Your Heart - Yasmin Mogahed
M
Y H EART IS AN O PEN B OOK My heart is an open book, Torn open by my story. Tell them you learned the lesson. You’ll learn it every time, You seek completion in the incomplete. You sought refuge in a straw house. Then when the storm came, You were bare and alone. Exposed. You spent years swallowing… But it was only air. And you wondered why it left you empty. They told you stories And you believed them… Then waited for the tooth fairy To bring you change. And yet still you’d give anything To make the story real. Let it go. There’s a better story. That isn’t a story. It’s Real. But in it the hero never dies Or bleeds or cries. Find the Real version. Memorize it. Write it on your heart. And then, Give it to the world to read. Your heart is an open book. T HE S TAB Don’t grieve at the stab. It’s only meant to free you. From the chains that bind you to the earth and shackle you to the shadows of people. The mirage of water cannot quench. But is so beautiful to the thirsty. I’m afraid. Of never knowing another life. Different. So different. If I let go, will You take me higher? Above grief, want, loss. Above all that I’ve ever known. Take me higher. Unbind me from the earth. Like a vaccine, it sickens, to make you stronger. The stab is temporary. The freedom, eternal. N ICHE My bones want to melt My muscles want to let go My body wants to stop Walking, Struggling, Fighting, for air, for life. My mind painted a picture for me, But now it’s all in black and white. The trees are bent, tired, closed. My heart, the same But still, my thoughts keep talking, Walking, Struggling, Fighting, For air, For life. How can you erase a picture so clear? So real? Tell me how to erase myself from it, And lay my own tired steps to rest. I see I’m stumbling, Not walking. I’m tripping now Not talking. There’s a pain inside my chest Born of silence, grief, unrest Who’s there but me to claim it? Who knows but me to name it? I’m sorry for my apathy, My lassitude at dawn. I’m circling now through forests Trying to find my niche. Has inspiration come to me? Whose voice is it I hear? My own is sharp and deafening. Who else could know my name? It is only through His kindness That the heart can speak When the mind and body are numb, Only dragging. Please come, If only to quiet my thoughts. I’m circling forests On wings Still searching for my niche. I’m no longer Walking, Struggling, Fighting. I’ve won the air I’ve won my life. |
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