"This Is My Heart," by Joy Harjo

This is my heart. It is a good heart.

Weaves a membrane of mist and fire.
When we speak love in the flower world
My heart is close enough to sing to you in a language too clumsy
for human words.

This is my head. It is a good head.
Whirs inside with a swarm of worries.
What is the source of this mystery?
Why can’t I see it right here, right now,
as real as these hands hammering
the world together?

This is my soul. It is a good soul.
It tells me, “Come here, forgetful one.”
And we sit together.
We cook a little something to eat,
then a sip of something sweet,
for memory, for memory.

This is my song. It is a good song.
It walked forever the border of fire and water,
climbed ribs of desire to sing to you.
Its new wings quiver with vulnerability.

Come lie next to me.
Put your head here.
My heart is close enough to sing.