My heart sees mountains in clouds
Watches dead temples
Come to life on
A tree crowned hilltops
Gazes at the deepsigh sunset
Watches the ghosts of pilgrims
Circle the anticlockwise hill
Seven times for a bowl of soup.

My heart follows you
Into the serpent Sun you speak
To free yourself from the iron cage
You constructed to keep yourself safe;

It wants to witness your unshakeable Blakean spear
And know you in your moments of nakedness and confusion

My heart sees you run,
Electric as a white hart in flight
Hears the hosanna you sang
When you fell to your knees and wept
Before a solitary tree

My heart sees you in two places at once
Doesn’t seem inclined to care which is which
Or for the reason why you ran,
Or the reason why you sang

And if you saw God in the grassy bank
Or Satan in the medication, the corporations,
The glass and metal banks,

My heart slips like a shadow through each door to follow

I do not come to flatter to the heart,
To coat it with a baste of praise
Swollen and bloated
Boiled like mutton in an witch’s dark cottage

I want to bear witness
Not to it’s power or capacity for salvation
But it’s tenacity and fortitude in the face of
How little it knows

I do not want to crown the heart in gold
Or swathe it in purple as a smug emperor of an inner kingdom,
I know my heart can cling too long,
To ghost of past loves it would do better to release,

That it madly chases archons and demons through labyrinths of world
through intricacies of the nervous system
I know my heart can be scheming, deluded, complacent and strange;
That it’s not a god but a process,
That it must weigh less than a feather
When it crosses the last threshold.

I know the heart is not it’s own kingdom
It needs an eye, a hand, a gut,
It needs language, landscape, companions,
Doorways, guitars and the sudden scent of cherries

It needs to blacken in the embers of fires that it started
Peel off the charred ashes flecked white as a crazy moonbeam
Blue as a whale in the song of it’s solitude
Red as that shade blood becomes when lust’s consumed by love

I know most of all, it needs the promise of a beloved.

Well, forget all that.
Today, I just want to praise
the simplicity of it’s perceptions,
It’s capacity for regeneration,
To garland it with wild flowers
Like a girl at her first dance
Who doesn’t know she is pretty

I want my heart’s angel to
Whisper leaves, friendships and the secret language of dusk
Into the folds of my heart’s loneliness.

And I want your heart to know
What it means to be called by name
That you’d turn, in a garden
On a startled heel’s pivot
And know in your heart’s chamber
The warm shock of recognition.

1 thought on “Recognition

  1. Pingback: Toby Chown

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