Your heart's language
Is too vast for vessels made of clay,
When your soul speaks of stars and ocean spray.
In mundane realms, when walking alone,
Speaking of kindness in undertones.
Feeling it all too intensely,
When noticing wounds that others mask,
Feeling their pain is too much to ask.
While others shield their eyes in fear,
While you draw their suffering ever near.
Compassion can often feel like a knife,
In this world of thorns measured by love
Which fits you like a borrowed glove.
Yet here you stand, worn yet bright,
In the shadows of a lesser light.
Caring too deeply to turn a blind eye,
You are not broken, just breaking free,
with empathy that others cannot see.
Your rhythm is different, its wild beat,
Makes the earth tremble beneath their feet.
Maybe it’s not that you’re too much,
Or not made to fit, but made to soar,
To crack the shell, to break open the door.
For in this world, naive souls sleep,
Whilst your waking heart feels too deep.
©️Lizzie Bevis
