Dear capricious heart,
I’m sorry for leaving you at the door step of my past self.
I know you’re built with wings that can’t take you to the sky,
But I was made of broken bones, my identity split between a continental divide,
And I was yearning for the moment that I’d come to terms with ambiguity.

Now I feel at ease,
knowing you’ve found comfort in the changing of the seasons,

And I have conquered the impossible task of hearing you beat without apprehension