Quiet Little Heart

A poem about self-discovery and acceptance

I have a private little heart.
It doesn't sing, but it's not unsung.
I keep it quiet, and we get by,
But it's not enough for some--
It doesn't fill the places
where they want to live.
My heart is dim but warm
And dreams itself a slumber
Of grays and greens and umber, for

I have a frightened little heart,
Pushed away by the screeching
Golden reds and bloated growling orange
Of angry faces and busy spaces,
Turned away from the babbled voices
and the screaming hearts of wasping colors.

I have a quiet little heart.
There's not many that can hear it.
On a lonesome road,
small among the black and green and blue,
It whispers about love;
It murmurs about peace.
The wind hears it, and the clean air,
The horses, and the bull in the field.

You may not understand, or hear the song,
Or taste the color of our perfect days.
But it's enough for now that I have learned
To hear and love
This quiet little heart.