precious cargo
our hearts—
not the complex
meaty thing
but capacity—
how the fox
forgoes food so
her kits are fed
even as skin
sculpts her ribs
how the youngster
slips piggy-bank
coins—
his whole savings—
in the blind man’s
mug or a worn-weary
woman pulls her
sister in close
we can shine
our heart light
and set
the world ablaze—
is this duty or gift?
either way,
meant to be
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 
Didn’t like words meaty things Did like the poem. Love Patrice
WordWranglingWoman Sent from my iPad
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Putting out words
Night after night
Lift up words
Remember the Joy words
Reminders
Duty or Gift?
Either way
Meant to be.
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💜💜
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