Heart-less

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by ori-c-li

by ori-c-li

What does it mean to be heartless?

The scratches are countless,
Nameless, time-less,
Restless–
Scars just go deeper, even if
They’re covered in layers and layers
Of cacophonies and dissonances
Produced by the terrible discords of people.
You can’t see them, but
They’re there,
And there’s nothing you can do
Except hope it gets worn away
By time, like how time
Spurs the waves to wear away the sea coasts.

My old friend here–
An orphan, really, from a parent long dead–
Came from Germany.
They must be nearly seventy years
Old now. Too old
To cut open, reach into,
Train and polish and refine.
I still haven’t named them yet,
But it’s hard to find a name for an instrument;
It’s so hard to find a name
For an instrument played by another instrument
I don’t even understand.

The great Joseph Joachim
Proclaimed that the Germans have
Four great concertos:
Beethoven: the most uncompromising.
    It’s way beyond me, but Hadelich did it.
Brahms: the most serious,
    Imbued with a majestic maturity and masculinity.
        Maybe I could learn it one day, but let’s not dream right now.
Bruch: the most rich, seductive.
    A crazy witch’s yearning as demonstrated by Janine.
Mendelssohn: the most inward–––

The heart’s jewel.

Where is it?
Is there a jewel,
And is there a heart for it?
Certainly
I can still find it.

What does it mean to be heartless?

Can I still find this core
Of a being I don’t even understand?
Do I still need it?
Can it cure all the hurt
You gave me
Through these waves
Within the parallel lines?
So, so, so
Many scars made into the printed lines on the
Papers, marked with
Crinkles and graphite and highlight. There’s too much
I don’t want to see, I don’t want to feel, I don’t want
To remember.
Most often jewels that need polish
Are neglected, because who wants to search
The memory of a dirtied jewel vandalized
By the hands of the unwanted, to remove
The twisted tarnish of the cracks filled with varnish?

Well, I can live without a sparkly ornament.
But what about a heart?
Everyone knows that without a heart–
A trusty, reliable, scarlet
Red heart–you
Will die.
A wooden box and a long stick
Doesn’t hold a heart very well, but
The absence of a vessel will throw you
Out to sea to drift, never to experience again
The luxury to hold your thoughts
Of gains and losses.

If something that’s supposed to be there
Is not there
Then where is it now?
Is it still there?
Whose is it?
Whose was it?

What does it mean to be heart-less?

You lose a jewel, you cry.
You lose a heart, you die...and see

Everything you lost.

So then will the heart come back?
Will the jewel come back?

What does it mean to be heart-less?