Hearts of stone cannot bleed;
aortas and ventricles
clog and contort,
but will not spill their precious cargo.
Hearts of stone
may be islands,
coastlines of security for the soul interred –
but do not good bedfellows make.
Hearts of stone
do not conform to spooned softness
or adapt to reaching arms;
they will not break for others
or drive change in the leaking.
Better to bleed,
spill,
beat fast with the pain,
than to remain
a stone.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
Yes…but it is such a beautiful stone 😦
Isn’t it?? It looks a bit like a heart with those red veins…
It does. It is very unusual.
Hmmm–I suppose it would do no good to wish I had a heart of stone, the dye’s been cast. Beautiful work, Mel.
Feeling opens us to pain – but pan is at least alive! What a conundrum…
Thank you for helping us give up our stone for flesh . .even if we bleed sometimes. Great poem!
Thanks Debbie! 🙂 Hearts of flesh are much better – messier, but much more real…
Sad to see so many choosing that which doesn’t bleed or blossom ~ a marvelous poem!
Thanks Debbie!