What if hearts could actually talk? // Aqsa Umar

From scars on our skin to stars in our eyes, this heart bears everything.  Clutched so gracefully it sits in our chests content but lost, beating and pounding. It is in the cockles of your heart where the baggage of emotions lies, it is where it stirs, bottles up and when the heart cannot contain it anymore, it gushes out in a fountain of bitter-sweet sensations.   

Strikingly these hearts should we speak them out, the world might not be able to hear anything after that. If our hearts could talk, the sighs would have reached the sky for life has been the summer sun and it has been the storm. Living contentedly in the chambers of the heart are stories, raw and ripe, making us and breaking us. Should our hearts speak, the universe would know that we have been scared and we have been scarred. For there were times we were loitering in the dark, the road was trodden with fear our only companion. Little by little the heart would narrate to you the battles won and battles lost. One after the other failure knocked on the door of our lives, but come morning we shined brighter than the sun. We sailed across the rough seas defying all the norms, and then withstanding the gusty winds we became the storm.

 Let the heart talk the talk that we have been many things. We have been the calm and we have been the chaos, we had gone astray and the heart will tell you how we picked ourselves along the way. For the heart bore an array of seasons, a decade of agony with promise of relief, an era of darkness waiting for light and a millennium of nothing but hope and faith. The heart would speak of simple strength, how seasons changed and life found a way. Fleeing all our fears we soared the sky, and like warriors and rebels we dreamed again. Joining the pieces back together, we geared up to breathe again. When the hearts talk, the universe is bound to listen. The sounds that erupt from the hollows of the heart are but music for the world. Each rhyme and hymn unravels the journey of our soul, and everything we become when we fall and then rise again. What if the heart told you that like many phases of the moon we had to perish before we became full again?

Little does the world know that there are oceans flowing inside, nurturing our souls and once the tide becomes high nothing would be able to stop its roar. But in a world where the mighty mouths have everything to say but nothing to say at all, talking our hearts out is akin to attempting a precarious climb, only one doesn’t know what waits on the other side. For we all could have had a different life altogether had we not silenced our heart. While the words from the tongue cut deeper than knives, the language of the heart is endearing and glorifying. For how long can we teach it our merciless ways by keeping what lies inside it veiled and restricted forbidding it to surface? The sullen heart only endures so much, for how long would you take its voice away?

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