With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking from my past.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking through my present.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking to meet my future.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I can now remember.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I look confidently forward.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I nurture new and healthy relationships.
With my heart upon my sleeve, I look through rose colored glasses more clearly.

With My Heart Upon My Sleeve


With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking from my past.
In a state somewhat confused, and dazed,
damaged in ego, spirit, confidence, and surety;
seeking no more abandonment, rather security, and some clarity.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking through my present.
In an emotionally battered and fragile field of memories,
I drag my body of new realizations, love’s war-torn semblance of
past times’ happy remembrances, dragging sadly behind me;
resolved layers peeling off my steps.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I come walking to meet my future.
There in the misty fog ahead, still hidden to my eyes, awaits
new springs of running emotions, weaving their way over and through
the hardened rocks of the immovable past; ferns and mosses of new beginnings,
velvety lush coverings of fresh life experiences bring forth strong, earthy aromas.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I can now remember memories more accurately, unclouded by the pain; self, suffering no more into a puddle of helpless disbelief,
can begin to feel the tender bulbs of new life, cautiously spreading roots of confidence, self-respect advancing from remnants of soiled and fertilized life compost.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I look confidently forward knowing
the fragile seeds of my self-dignity, pride, personality, and will to thrive,
have survived another savage wildfire, another tumultuous tornado,
another hellacious hurricane, in the stormy jungle of life, and will rise victorious again.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I nurture new and healthy crops of relationship;
seeds from the hand of the Creator, imbedded deep into the warm incubation of my heart, watered by the tears of disappointment, nutritioned by experiences of the past, bolstered by strong, supportive ties of my faith, willed to survive, growing skyward,
gently pruned, shaped, and tended by the Holy Comforter.

With my heart upon my sleeve, I look through rose colored glasses more clearly.
Sub-conscious processes, hidden narcissistically from piercing doubts, in hope that soon, the spring season of my life, will once again bring forth buds of grace, blossoming forth beautiful, robust blossoms, vivid in color, bold with life, for others to glimpse and savor.