My heart feels heavy like a brick.
My fingers, interwoven like a basket, rest upon my heart space, and I feel the weight.
Heavy, but soft. Not hard. Soft like a pillow.
I try to remember when my heart felt light.
Was it the days and nights protesting against injustice, hate, and greed? Protesting to preserve democracy.
Was it the days and nights protesting against injustice, hate, and greed? Protesting to preserve democracy.
My heart was light like a feather flying in the air, flying amongst all us gathered.
We chanted, we sang, we danced, and candles lit the sky.
My neurons were dancing and leaping inside my brain sending twitches down my body.
My heart felt light, filled with hope.
Did I harden my heart to survive?
My heart is heavy with sorrow.
The leaping neurons have softened their dance to a quiet pas de deux.
