I’m not a Cardiologist

She’s a sunshine lady, always smiling and hoping that her little heart crack won’t split the difference and cause a racous outpouring of emotion onto her dinner plate whilst her husband glances at her disinterestedly and pauses before saying:

“Please pass the potatoes…” with a low-key voice and a throat-belch from satisfied depths.

Her throbbing arrhythmia is muffled by the sounds of chewing and the clack of stainless on stoneware.

She’s an iron-clad lass, always geared to warm weather and willing to give, give, give before taking nether a drop of dew from the friends and family who love her.  She longs for the occasional rain or snow storm so hot streaking tears can stream down her face.  She accepts this dew as she sips of fermented grape.

A car window is a lovely frame for the searing tears of the heart-broken-face she thinks as she ponders the future car-ride home.  She takes great interest in the contortion that sadness, grief and longing plays upon her skin.

So, she waits as she has always done and the crack starts to split just a little bit more.  Each day threatens a maelstrom – an atomic sized cardiovascular catastrophe threatens to displace her heart from her chest.  Senor Defibrillator may have his work cut out for him when he pauses to electrify those broken heart bits.  Heart break or heart quake?  Another cliche for your ponderance.

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7 responses to “I’m not a Cardiologist

  1. That is a very wellmade and creative inner portrait. So many lovely sentences and arabesques of language.

    -Paul – “arabesques of language”…Even your comments are eloquent and succinct. I praise you [bowing my head reverently]. This is why I need to continue writing. YOU continue to inspire ME. Thank you.

  2. I see you’re back to the land of blog, PM. Good to see you. And you’ve come back with a marvellous piece of prose.

    Anthony – Good to see you Anthony. I’ve missed your charms. Thank you for the comment too. This piece was a brave reflection of some of the frustrations that many women face. I guess I just felt it needed to have a voice and I’m honoured that you appreciated it.

  3. Maybe heartache comes before heart break or heart quake. maybe it is what never happened between the silent lines of her giving. maybe it it because she knows something those who don’t know her, never noticed, never articulated.

    some people come with love. Some people come without it.

    maybe she knows….

    and her heart has decided to split the difference.

    Song – Oh from where did my heart’s Song appear? How did you find me Song? Your lovely tremolo ripples with melodic reverberation through these dank halls and I’m so glad you fluttered by to share your vision. Your interpretation of this piece was instinctual. Being human, as I have learned, is fraught with heart chakra perils. If you silence your heart, you silence your soul. To communicate your wishes and dreams is to love and honour yourself. Thank you for your birdie wisdom today and I really do hope you chose to “nest” somewhere nearby (and if you do have a blog – I would love to read some of your work…..as you seem to be a magnificent writer….).

  4. don’t know what got into me, muse…

    your writing triggered that response..

    sorry about the “maybe it, it…”

    Song – Oh Song. Never you mind the types and the stuttering effect (!). I’ve made plenty of typos in my days of blogging (even as I write this, I am constantly correcting my double consonants).

  5. observantbystander

    Oh my God, your words cut to my heart. You said it all. I am dumbstruck.

    Karen – I let out quite the breath after I wrote this piece. I’m glad it struck a chord with you soul sister and I’m truly appreciative of your time, your love and your constant support. I stored a few of the hot little embers from one of your recent pieces and allowed it to spark something deep inside of me. The little fire that burns inside of my cinderbox really wants me to remain true to myself – and part of this honesty involves giving my heart a voice. Hugs.

  6. dear Muse,

    When you spoke from your heart, you spoke to my heart
    and then the alchemy of your passion created in me, a response, a resonant written return. The words of the human heart create motion, light, color and tone..

    and so then we had a moment of At-one-ment.

    I am musician muse.

  7. Thank you Dear Song.

    “a response, a resonant, written return.”

    [beautiful alliteration, thank you for that lovely moment]

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