Oh hurricane heart, you dare pick up the pieces

That are left scattered to the wind.

A whispering breeze that calms down the tempest in one’s soul,

Yet you’re a storm within yourself, all chaos but beautiful still,

Like all poetic paradoxes that can exist in a world as this;

That you can work on the embers of another to sooth

But you leave your own to smoulder and fume,

Sending smoke signals so that other sojourners come and find you

Despite your own journey not being through;

 That you would stop and pick up remnants discarded by one,

Remnants they thought they no longer need but lack,

Remnants that prick not just the one who left them behind

But the one who picks it up and returns it back.


How can you keep a handle on a heart as your own?

Always open to everything and everyone, no hesitation.

I have always thought there is limit to love even

But you seem to have proven me wrong.

Does it not daunt you, the responsibilities you choose to carry?

Does it not get too crushing; does it not get too heavy?

Or maybe, you have your own ghosts that haunt you still,

Unwelcome reminders that you cannot kill,

Your own closet full of bones

But in this, you are not alone.

We’re all the same, we too have our own.

But no matter. If David can bring down a giant on his own,

Then so can I and so can you.


Oh hurricane heart, not many will understand you

And most often they never do as I do too.

But I have seen you bend to the will of the wind

A thousand thousand times and not break

And I will never cease to marvel at the quiet wonder,

The formidable stronghold of strength and dignity that I find in you.

Published by Matti War