If a heart quite literally grew a tiny child, a tiny heart
If a heart cradled a tiny babe, right there
Like an atrium to the lightest glimmer of hope
Would it be the joke of a rabble?
Would it be the mark of a freak?
Or horror reels for sale?
Would it be frightening?
Would it be a miracle?
Would it be a stand up riot?
Would it be words like parasitic
or rare condition?
No.
It would just be different
It would just be a beautiful little change of plans
It would be something to re-manage or reimagine
A rose that bloomed from a garden
Not a cave with all its veins like roots and
Rivers deep.
She would be a survivor
She would be something to write home about
Something to shout from the rooftops
Like a sister or a child or guardian who clung onto
The very centre of a soul
For dear life
And came up for air
In a different direction
With the same
Yet different
Heart as
Anyone
Does.
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