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What are our hearts for, really? For Conversemomma of Ordinary Art, her heart is a street musician who conga-lines alongside her, pounding out theme music for her story.
The percussion is killer. Her post, Letter to My Beating Heart sounds out stark, personal stories of heartaches good, bad and worse. Who among us doesn't have a few of these flinch-worthy memories? Their true grit makes Conversemomma's lyrical writing all the more rewarding:
"hub, dub, thub, dub, thub dub, wild beatings in the 7th grade stairway when Tommy Greener snaked his fingers up my skirt to scratch the skin of my soft and dough-like thighs. Your urgent message that we were cornered was falling on the deaf ears of the girl raised on the pop make believe of Debbie Gibson and Phil Collins. I battered my eyes thick with shimmery pink and blue eyeshadow and wondered if this was what a love song should feel like. I am sorry for the way you broke fast and furious the next day when he did not become my boyfriend, but instead the town crier who told everyone I did not shave past my kneecaps. I should have listened to you then..."
Like the best songs of the heart, Conversemomma's may break yours. As it gets darker, prepare yourself for minor keys. And then...light. And trumpets. And strength:
"Good heart. I do not know what lies ahead, more love or disappointment. I know that I can not shield you, us, from loss, death, and despair. All I can do is listen. Each night I pray that we rock steady for a while, thub, dub, thub, dub, thub dub, this anthem that you beat inside my body, this song you sing inside your walls..."
The lesson? Words as music. A reminder that, no matter what happens, and heaven help you, a woman's heart has to keep time, as so many have. And that's a reason to shake your money-maker and celebrate.
So thanks for the song Conversemomma. Happy Valentine's Day!
Thanks to everyone for continuing to send in your nominated posts. Keep them coming!
Best,
Lisa
For Elisa, Jory and Lisa
BlogHer Co-founders
