There once was a hole in a heart
it made the heart weak and leak
powerless to the hole it kept missing the beat
One day a new heart came,
it was fierce and beautiful
the body it belonged to was quite deceased
So I took the heart in, and gave up the hole in order to be whole.
The heart is pumping and alive
but not all of its desires are entirely mine
It loves jazz music and starry nights
It beats in double for chocolate moose.
I’m rather surprised that I never was quite alive
until this other heart sung loud at dawn.
This is not my heart… it loves things my own heart never did.
It coo’s over babies and soft light at dawn.
.. pounds in harmony with beating drums
This beat is not my own….
I do not know the rhythm but my brain has no authority here…
cause a heart always leads.. the brain just plays catch up.
So really I see that it is I who gave that great gift
my body was the vessel for her love to beat on.
Your brain my have died but your heart lives on.
It beats outs it’s desires in morse code
t..h..a..n..k..y..o..u..t..h..a..n..k..y..o..u.. (I’m not dead)
I crave things, that I have no name for
I only have a wave of longing to ride
the sound of a song bird in summer
the perfume of some sweet flower
a spice missing in my dishes
The feel of fabric as smooth as water
I bear the soul of another, and she longs so…
I almost see a face, the heart quickens and swoons
but no it says, it is not him..
At first I thought these were mine,
but I do not remember such beating and fleeting
my own heart, it rather loved blondes and ice cream.
And this heart loves the dark and to dream
it flips itself over in search of it’s love
I hold it in my chest, for now I am the guardian
of an exotic bird, fluttering and vying
to lead itself home again.
The mind is but a guardian to the heart
As such it must learn to stand back and not lead
for the heart knows the path and the journey home.
I let this wild heart fly home again and again and I am alive with it.
Who is transplanted, who remains, who is the giver and who is the receiver?
New research points to a truth we all have always know, our heart truly hold our passions, our loves, our fears and our interests. Transplant recipients have reported marked differences in their interests and tastes that truly correlate with the heart of the giver. But if the loves of another live on in the traditionally thought of receiver… they are really giving this other heart the chance to live on its loves… so both parties if not especially the heart of the deceased is given an amazing gift. The transplant recipient wins too, to be given a heart that loves, that feels, that remembers the glories of beauty and mystery. Some hearts don’t take, and I wonder if they are too hateful or too loving for the recipient to handle…for an unfeeling person to be given a heart full of love, could they make space in their bodies and mind for such splendor, could you or I?