'Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.' - From an essay by W. B. Yeats <br /> <br />Big heart, <br />wide as a watermelon, <br />but wise as birth, <br />there is so much abundance <br />in the people I have: <br />Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, <br />Joan, Marie, Dawn, <br />Arlene, Father Dunne, <br />and all in their short lives <br />give to me repeatedly, <br />in the way the sea <br />places its many fingers on the shore, <br />again and again <br />and they know me, <br />they help me unravel, <br />they listen with ears made of conch shells, <br />they speak back with the wine of the best region. <br />They are my staff. <br />They comfort me. <br /> <br />They hear how <br />the artery of my soul has been severed <br />and soul is spurting out upon them, <br />bleeding on them, <br />messing up their clothes, <br />dirtying their shoes. <br />And God is filling me, <br />though there are times of doubt <br />as hollow as the Grand Canyon, <br />still God is filling me. <br />He is giving me the thoughts of dogs, <br />the spider in its intricate web, <br />the sun <br />in all its amazement, <br />and a slain ram <br />that is the glory, <br />the mystery of great cost, <br />and my heart, <br />which is very big, <br />I promise it is very large, <br />a monster of sorts, <br />takes it all in— <br />all in comes the fury of love.<br /><br />Anne Sexton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-big-heart-2/
