A Radical Heart

There is a seed in my heart.

There is a seed in my heart waiting to be radicle, 

waiting patiently to root and burrow and sprout fire-hued leaves, 

jagged yellow dandelions, a thick-barked sequoia. 

I will fruit into this radical seed, this web, this way of being. 

The seed waits inside me 

but the word is not wait when there is no such thing as time. 

When minutes and days are a construct of my mind. 

The seed knows no waiting:

it only knows nourishment and growth and life. 

 The seed is planted in my heart, warm and germinating.

My broken ventricles will be its bed, 

my freckled arms outstretched its trellis,

my song its rain.

There is a seed in my heart.

I am planting the world with its purpose.