My Betrayed Heart

I was too high to hear my life calling me out of a nightmare that called itself a dream.  For a while, a premature technicality. I thought I was warm when the ice-chilled wings of winter embraced me. Its breath, not sweet like a row of honeysuckle vines praising God on a fence, was terribly bitter; a foreshadowing that went ignored. I thought I was a brilliant sun on planet Earth and rejected the resources the Sun offered  – still, nature has its way.

My physical eyes were blinded by a wickedness that played the roll of innocent victim and weaved a lie so great it was too fantastic to be untrue. But my third eye saw things clearly. It warned me with the space in between words, in dreams and visions. When reality began plucking away at my heartstrings, playing a terrible off key tune, I rejected the pain and settled for promises that took the shape of temporary satisfaction - selling mediocrity and imperfection under the guise of normality. I informed my suspicious mind that it was out of line: “Stand down,” I commanded! “Orders will now be dictated by the heart!”

And so by day, the heart ruled. It allowed for silliness that only a child should entertain. Yet, in the deep of night, my mind set the stage, revealing the true nature of character. In a dream, my mother and my mother’s dead kin invited me to court. I was presented to a tribunal of women who had found me guilty without having heard a word of praise or insult from me. “You have the heart of Delilah!” My mother accused and I woke quickly, disturbed by the pointed accusation. Who was my heart betraying? I asked myself. Pictures appeared in my mind; faces of folks loved and familiar, but it wasn’t long before I realized that the heart I had betrayed was my own.