Image: Chordae Tendinae
Musing on heart strings, the tiny tendons that hold to the butterfly beating of our vulnerable hearts.
This fragile sinew can be torn and shredded by a shocking instant of emotional pain. This the all too familiar sensation of our heart literally breaking, as our hands fly to our chest and the blood drains from our face.
And what I wonder is how the flailing pieces deep inside us find their way back together. Because as surely as time ticks and tocks and the waves keep kissing the shore, those tender strings are played once more and again.
One moment when your back is turned and your heart is tucked firmly away, hidden behind ribs and the palace walls you built brick by bloody brick after the war, someone will step softly toward you. And the resonance between lovers who have not even met yet will move those pre-loved tendons in unison.
The slow dance will begin.
And we will turn.
And we will smile.