Gray Paper Heart

author's note:

I feel I'm learning a lot--though often I'm not aware of what I'm learning.

Looking back, I'll sometimes realize what I learned at a particular time.  But maybe not until long afterwards.


GRAY PAPER HEART

I once explored a stationery store
for an hour
in search of a sheet
from which I could cut
a gray paper heart

to match the one that’d vanished
when I reached down in a dream.

Somehow I knew
texture was even more important

than color in my choice.
So I traced my fingertips
across sheets of many grades and weaves--
each held its own particular pleasure.
Some felt almost right
which meant:
they were not the paper I sought.

Finally
like a magical moment in a fairy tale
I spied the one I knew was the one
at the end of the middle shelf:
a light-gray standard-size sheet, it was--
the fiber, somewhat coarse
but perfect in its imperfection.

I touched with trepidation
and in turn, was touched
by a material so quiet
yet so alive.

Something inside silently said:
I am that.
To which I replied:
“I don’t think I understand.”
And then no longer felt that something.

Not until the evening
when I began to work my scissors
tenderly into those fibers
did I remember
someone I once saw leaning
against the side of a stucco building
deep in shadow.

No, I didn’t see her face
just the back of her long plain gray dress.
I could hear her tears--
not dramatic, not bereft--
her sighing calm suggested
she didn’t want to but knew
she needed to cry.

I felt pained because
I desired to help her but could not.
So I soothed myself
with this understanding:
she didn’t need me.

Now, as I touch that cut heart
I feel the woman’s strength again.
Though quite human
she was also a vision.
Another lesson
in my education.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton