My Heart has Wings

My heart has wings
strong and muscled
from  all the practice
at keeping aloft that
bloody organ of
hope
against fear's
gravity

somewhat tattered
frayed around the edges
slightly dented
and nicked
from close encounters
with despair's
wicked claws

a little singed too
from flying close
to the sun
burnt by high
expectations
and often
hurtled
earthward
by disappointment

battered, bruised, often broken
but still thrashing away
sometimes foolishly
like a seal's
flapping flippers,

( sappy  fool for love)

then  suddenly
aflutter
surprised by
unexpected beauty,
the kindness
of strangers,
wizened hands
still holding
each other,
the emerald
quicksilver of
dragonfly wings,
the blue blue iris
of a newborn.
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