Head hollers at me so loud,

I can hardly listen to heart

The whirring of necessary and urgent

Completely overwhelms

What I am straining to hear.

Quiet, quiet; almost inaudible,

Still, insistent, just loud enough

To softly repeat that there is

More than senses scream

If only I could just turn them all off

And listen to what silence is trying

To tell me. If only!

 

I am in frank envy of those

Who have such easy access

To hearts that summoning

Treasures from their fullness

Seems to be an easy thing.

A laugh, or a tear, great joy

Or anger’s fiery rage.

Well, that last one is not all

That difficult, It and sadness

Seem to be all that the heart-starved

Can easily know. But those two

Are only imposters, capable

Of drowning out head’s din

To be heard. Perhaps

They don’t come from heart at all

And once again I fall for

Head’s old familiar swindle.

 

Someday, maybe,,, It would be nice

To clearly hear what heart says,

And translate it into doing-or being…

The way it is now, everything seems

To be only half right, monochromatic,

Lacking some important something.

Quieting head down enough

To hear heart speak

Is learned behavior, and it seems

I was absent from school

The day that lesson was given.

 

So now I have to learn on my own.

Can someone show me, help me?

Time grows dim, cobwebs

Seem to be gathering.

I need to learn, to understand…

But learning and understanding

Are head functions.

Heart knows nothing of them.

And so the only way

To hear heart speak

Is to shut up

And listen

To silence.

 

Chip Bergeron

8 January 2011

1:44 AM