If my heart was a city...
If my heart was a city, it would be filled with lush green grass and breathtaking waterfalls, with dense forests and golden sunshine. It would be a city of nature.
The air would smell of wet earth, of delicious baby-ness, of delicate flowers. It would be a safe haven; a cosy sort of place. A place of boundless love, of zero pretense - an open, honest place.
There would be rainbows, too, and unicorns and talking animals. Also ice cream that never melts and gemstones that grow on trees. And everlasting friendships and never ending relationships; a city of whimsy.
If my heart was a city, it would be dominated by mementos of my precious baby - breaking news of her latest cuteness being broadcast 24/7; perhaps even a committee to document every precious second spent with my angel.
And yet in this city, there would also be a darkness, lurking just out of sight - a certain frozen lake, where spring never comes and the sun never shines. A place of bittersweet history - closed off from public view, but ever-present, nevertheless.
There would be a hidden cave, too, overflowing with the pain of a million mothers and a million fathers; parents in Pakistan, in Iraq, in Syria, in Palestine...and an ancient family in Kerbala...a mother who mourns, to this day, the ruination of a beautiful household; the scorching heat of the desert, the piercing thirst of innocent children; the murder of a 6 month old.
But the heart remains hidden, and so does everything in it.
The air would smell of wet earth, of delicious baby-ness, of delicate flowers. It would be a safe haven; a cosy sort of place. A place of boundless love, of zero pretense - an open, honest place.
There would be rainbows, too, and unicorns and talking animals. Also ice cream that never melts and gemstones that grow on trees. And everlasting friendships and never ending relationships; a city of whimsy.
If my heart was a city, it would be dominated by mementos of my precious baby - breaking news of her latest cuteness being broadcast 24/7; perhaps even a committee to document every precious second spent with my angel.
And yet in this city, there would also be a darkness, lurking just out of sight - a certain frozen lake, where spring never comes and the sun never shines. A place of bittersweet history - closed off from public view, but ever-present, nevertheless.
There would be a hidden cave, too, overflowing with the pain of a million mothers and a million fathers; parents in Pakistan, in Iraq, in Syria, in Palestine...and an ancient family in Kerbala...a mother who mourns, to this day, the ruination of a beautiful household; the scorching heat of the desert, the piercing thirst of innocent children; the murder of a 6 month old.
But the heart remains hidden, and so does everything in it.
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