This heart has been scarred so many times
Don't you try to throw one more needle at it
Don't you try to throw one more needle at it
It is shielded by the ones thrown before
Space is scarce
Even for the tip of your needle.
An attempt at the translation of an Arabic saying a friend once told me. At the time of listening to the words, my heart sank at the thought of all the pain. But all I can imagine now, as an outcome, is ...
A metal heart, perhaps filled with pins, yet shining through its tough protection of a vibrant sparkle.
It is through the pain, that we are challenged to learn.
So, I wrote my version.
This armoured heart of mine
Is exploding like a grenade
Yet protected by a shield.
The hurt has turned into Love
And the pain to dust
Sprinkled wild and free
Upon the blue sea.
Then into a breeze out of reach
Disappearing on a white sandy beach
Under the scorching sun,
Absorbed by the green leaves
To float free as Oxygen
Filling the lungs
With that fresh air of Freedom.
Freedom to love without prejudice
To cherish the moments gifted to us
Surrounded by loving friends
The acceptance of family values.
And alas the saying...
'Love... Like you've never been hurt before.'
Not that easy! Is it?
The hurt has turned into Love
And the pain to dust
Sprinkled wild and free
Upon the blue sea.
Then into a breeze out of reach
Disappearing on a white sandy beach
Under the scorching sun,
Absorbed by the green leaves
To float free as Oxygen
Filling the lungs
With that fresh air of Freedom.
Freedom to love without prejudice
To cherish the moments gifted to us
Surrounded by loving friends
The acceptance of family values.
And alas the saying...
'Love... Like you've never been hurt before.'
Not that easy! Is it?
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