Mind vs. Heart

A little morning sonnet -

Dreary in morning, my mind is bothered
My good heart waits for clearing in the fog
And remembers strength of who I’m fathered
Thinking right barely drags me from the bog

Facing the day, behind unopened doors
Waiting to try and knowing I’m artless
Alone I live safely, inside and bored
What is the key to avoiding darkness?

Surrender must come to life that’s given
Efforts to win are lost without substance
Giving up offers the soul that is riven
The hope on the road that’s laden with chance

Broken heart healed is the only promise
Myself solved in mind is only heart-less



Some explanation -

This is a consideration of where the energy, drive and capacity for full life really come from.
In a culture that is addicted to the idea that “if I just get it right, everything will work out,” surrounded by thousand of books, articles and videos on the 5 steps to a better love life, how to cook for healthy kids in 5 minutes or less and the Cosby’s 21 minute solution to everything, I am suggesting that “getting it right” is an illusion. This suggestion is based on the premise that I am already “gotten right”. I was created (by a loving father) for a fantastic purpose that the world has led me (willingly, I am sad to say) away from. As a result of this departure, I am broken at the core (my heart). However, Jesus came to “Restore the broken hearted” (Isaiah 61). This statement at the beginning of his ministry, flies in the face of most Christian religious pulpit statements about the sinfulness of man by suggesting that (if restoration is possible) the original condition of the heart of man is… good! So what I am trying (awkwardly) to say is; figuring it all out in my mind is not going to work. What I need is to have my heart healed (restored). For that, I must give up my futile efforts and turn myself back over to He who invented me. I often wake up, thinking furiously, aligning things in my mind. My conclusions usually do not get me feeling fully alive, they get me feeling weighted down and out of touch with my heart.

The idea of bog is an attempt to bring an image of stuck-ness. Like when you walk in deep, relentless, gooey mud in your black rubber boots with red soles and a rim at the top and you get so deep that you can’t keep going without leaving your boots behind. However if you are a little kid and your dad picks you up by applying gentle pressure under your armpits and you curl your toes, your boots will ever-so-slowly de-suck from the mud and you will be saved without the need for Tide on your now brown socks. Also, bogs are dark and gloomy from overgrowth and misty/foggy with moisture. I think it is a perfect word for the picture in my mind. I’m not really focused on the bed other than as the moment between asleep and awake when I am aware of my hearts longing for more.

Myself solved in mind is referring to the idea of getting things all figured out on a brain/fact level. The experience I’m writing about has demonstrated to me over and over that a mind level conclusion is not enough. Without a healing of the heart, it is never going to be enough.

This is probably the hardest poem for me to figure out adjustments to. I did some work on the iambic pentameter. I think the emphasis on the alternating stresses is a little better.

Enjoy. Thanks for reading