In case I disappear here is a map of my heart,
a patched up job, repeatedly reassembled.
With a little patience it can still be understood
and if gently handled it won’t fall apart,
but please do not fold, spindle or mutilate.
Its paths and crossroads are still echoing
with songs of travelers passing through,
tears too are heard, of the wandering lost,
for though the roads are straight they are also worn
and collapsed with confusions and misdirections.
Notice how the blue of fallen sky becomes an ocean
where angels and mermaids dance in arcs of light.
I rest on these beaches when I lose myself,
cool my feet in the waves and sleep for awhile,
then I remember, this is the way back home.
And here are the greens of meadows where I lay
deep in new growth, my thrusting blossoms
seeding the verdant winds and high forests of isolation
with pollinations of laughter, longing and desire.
I smudge the map with unseen words against forgetting.
And there the golden glow of a thousand votive flames
illuminates the holy dark, recalls the first January sun,
places lamps in all the windows, engorges summer heat,
reflects itself in conjured forms of island fantasies
and shapes of full moon dreams in fields of wheat.
The signatures of red I will not hide beneath the surface,
they are its surging life and are crying for acceptance.
These bleeds of love seep through the gauze of landscape
however many bandages of colour I apply.
No compass needed here. This is a map of my heart.
torn and reassembled acrylic painting and poem by clinock