Heart of Gold

Everyone said she had a heart of gold. Which made sense, because it got stolen constantly.

There was also magic in her heart. Magic and light that was coveted by some.

Having a heart of gold made her give it fairly freely, though. Passing it off with the sweet smile of naivety. When it was returned, sometimes it was polished to glowing beauty by a vital connection that only humans are blessed with. Friendship and love fed her pretty heart, making it glitter with possibility.

But sometimes, it was not returned in the condition it was given. And eventually, her golden heart was dented and tarnished, the magic dulled and became unnoticeable.

It seemed to her that no one would want it anymore. It was so damaged and broken, seemingly useless.

She brought it to him anyway, lowering her gaze as she placed it in his waiting hands. And when she looked up, she saw that he was smiling. The kind of smile reserved for things that are precious and perfect. The kind of smile that heals and renews.

He folded his hands around her banged up heart and pulled it to his chest. He replaced it with his own, gleaming brightly and handed it to her, while holding his other palm over her old tattered heart, and whispering gently…

I don’t know why you took it away,
But this is where it’s meant to stay.
Now, I’m giving MY heart to you.
Be a good girl, don’t let it get bruised.

Now, tasked with the responsibility of protecting her new heart from theft or damage, she worked hard to find the perfect people who wouldn’t steal her heart, but help her defend it. And in the soft, pale light of the rising moon, she would take it out and show it to him. The one man who would never steal her heart without giving his own for collateral.

Each night, she noticed, as he offered her a glimpse of her heart, that it wasn’t so damaged any longer. It glowed a bit more and the magic was starting to sparkle once again.

Perhaps he was mending her battered old heart.

Something she swore he would never have to do again.

Gold heart by Nicolette11 via DeviantArt.com
Gold heart by Nicolette11 via DeviantArt.com


Lost in Lethe by mkaphotography via DeviantArt.com

“I’m sure he’s the answer.”
“The answer to what?”
“My questions.”
“To the questions you didn’t understand.”
“I still don’t.”
“Then how can you be sure?”
“How can we be sure of anything?”
“That sounds like something he would say.”
…You infected me with this. You made me start all this. Why?”
“Because you want it, need it. Next, you’re going to ask why life isn’t fair.”
“No… but why is life so limited? Why are our mistakes so heavy? Why are our successes so fleeting?”
“You ask the best questions, dear child.”
“I thought he was the answer. To all of them.”
“You want him to be. But the answers are in the questions.”
“Why are you here again? Why do you haunt my dreams?”
“Always more questions. If you would just surrender–”
“I don’t know how. I can’t ‘surrender’. I want to quit.”
“I know you do, sweet child. That is why I’m here.”
“Just let go. Just leave me.”
“Not until you see what I see, what he sees, what everyone sees…”
“Don’t talk about my magic. It’s not real.”
“But it is. You believed for a moment, and look what you created?”
“A mess.”
No, little girl. Life. Joy. Strength. Renewal. Use that magic to free yourself as you have others.”
“I’m too afraid.”
“I thought you learned this lesson. Have hope. Find hope and cling to it. Hope destroys fear.”
“Hope that I’ll figure out how to let go of my dreams?”
“If you surrender, you won’t have to let go of your dreams.”
“He doesn’t want my surrender.”
“Have you asked him?”
“This is impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible.”
“Plenty is impossible.”
“The things you think are impossible, dear one, are the ones most worth fighting for.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I’ve told you repeatedly. It took a note from a stranger to make you listen… to make you see.”
“What if I’m not capable? What if my will is too strong?”
“It isn’t.”
“What if my desire is too strong?”
“It isn’t.”
“I wish you would tell me exactly what to do.”
I am. I have been, pretty girl. You are confusing yourself.”
“You confused me… I’m still confused… The forms you choose confuse me.”
“You choose the vessel. I am simply a part of you. …You are confused because you continue to argue, to struggle against what you want more than anything.”
“Why do I struggle against myself?”
“If you could answer that question and stop, you would find peace. In surrender.”
“I don’t know…”
“Nothing is impossible, sweet girl. The word itself says I’m Possible. Believe in yourself the way the world believes in you, and you will find all the answers to all the questions.

“They are right inside of you!”

You are magical…

He sees me.
Broken, in this moment.
Lost in the spiral.
Of my illogical thoughts.

I hold my tongue…
I contain my criticism…
I maintain my submission.

He sees me.
Wraps his arms around me.
Resets me HIS way.
Not mine.

I grin my dimpled smile…
I release my held anxiety…
I exhale my sweet magic…

He sees me.
My concern always for him.
Trust coaxing him.
To decide, for me.

I show my respect…
I voice my appreciation…
I become my submission.

He sees me.
And he tells me.
The thing I never thought
He noticed.

You are magical…


A dream of hope

It was an ordinary evening, a typical walk. But, for reasons I cannot explain, I wasn’t surprised when I was captured violently and pulled behind a fence on the dark, vacant path I love. I watched calmly and quietly as my attacker pressed me against the cold, damp wood and held a knife to my chest.

I had always had very little fear of death, as I have always believed that what lies on the other side could only be welcome relief from the pain that is living in this world. I’d clung to hope that someday life would provide me purpose. And in those seconds, I was completely at peace.

I knew that this was the moment for my magic to make a difference. This was my chance to infect someone else with kindness and hope. To pass on the light that made it impossible for me to let life’s hurt overwhelm me, even when it seemed to bury me.

I looked into the face of a young man whose desperation, hatred, lust and fear coated him like armor. But as his eyes bore into mine, I knew his weakness. For in them, I saw an unloved boy, a kid whose life had been infinitely harder than mine, a young man whose heart had been frozen and shattered repeatedly by the disappointments that drown so many.

I lifted my hand to his cheek and saw panic flash before me, but soothed his anxiety with the magic of my voice. “Shhhh, you have nothing to fear from me. I cannot hurt you. But if you allow me, I might help you… comfort you… heal you.”

His eyes grew wide as I spoke. Perhaps he’d never experienced kindness in his life. The idea made me sad and I lifted my other hand to his face to capture a single tear. That drop of saline need told me my magic was working.

As I stroked his unshaven face, his arms fell slack at his sides and I seized the opportunity to pull him into my embrace and plant the seeds that might grow into goodness and mercy. Hope.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt sadness roll off of him in waves that brought tears to my own eyes. My empathic heart absorbed it like a sponge, and I wished with everything in me that it truly worked that way. That I could relieve his woeful spirit by soaking up all the negative emotion that addled him.

Perhaps he could feel my thoughts, because the knife dropped from his grip and his arms circled me and held me as though he hadn’t ever felt the pleasure of a simple hug.

He took deep, choppy breaths against my hair, in an effort to evade the sobs that fought to bubble from within. He managed to keep himself from setting free the frightened boy who was never allowed the release of crying into the arms of someone who cared.

He whispered, “Why?” Barely audible, I tried to pull back to look at him, but he clung to me, almost as if I were a life preserver. But before I could answer, his thoughts grew dark and I felt the change course through his body. “You shoulda just said you wasn’t afraid of me…”

He lifted a hand to my throat as he pulled my arms from his neck and took a step back. His eyes were filled with hopelessness and rage. “I might’ve walked, but now, I wanna make you feel the pain you think I’m in.”

I should have felt fear with his words, but instead, I was excited by them. Curious about the level of rage he might muster after such an emotional response to my gift. I stood, fixed by his grip and stare, before my lips turned upward, unable to relinquish control to this lost boy.

“Do you think taking a piece of my body will fill the void? That release within me will give you something you are missing? Is that truly what you believe?”

His fingers tightened, his eyes were wide, and I could see the confusion my questions caused. I could feel his conscience fighting with his desire.

“Taking power will not make you feel more powerful.”

The crack my magic had made in his armor grew, but so did his rage. He leaned into me, as the fingers of his free hand reached between my thighs to grip me, intimately. “You’re wrong,” he growled. “Takin’ this will give me power.”

My smile faded, and I stared into the eyes of a possible rapist, but I didn’t feel the conviction of his words. I wished I could see inside his mind, inside his memories, and inside his lust.

In those wishes, my magic gripped me. Harder than he, and with enough force to choke me. An inch from my lips, I breathed him in and recognized his victimization.

A lifetime of attacks, a decade of cowering, and the inability to stand up against his abuser had left him broken and searching for that which might make him feel strong.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I gasped and struggled to keep from breaking. The weight of his shame crushed my heart and the hatred I felt for the person who created this hurt within him, a person he’d loved, emptied my mind of any self preservation. My desire to heal him forced my hands back to his scruffy jaw.

“Do your worst, sweet boy, if it will make you whole. Take refuge and release in me, but do so with the knowledge that what happened to you, to your heart and mind, will then happen to me. In taking my body, you will take away my hope.”

He stared into my eyes, realization clawing at him. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying desperately to understand what I was doing to him. As firmly as my power had gripped me, it was invading him. Penetrating the very center of what had brought him so many years of strife, and exploding with that one thing he’d been missing forever.

“Hope…” His lips were touching mine, his fingers still holding me, and my own twisting into the soft curls at the base of his neck.

“Yes. Let IT define you, instead of allowing your history to do that.” My whispered words filled his mouth, and I finally broke all the way through.

He released me, but remained planted to the spot, not wanting to disrupt the magic of my touch. Gazing into my eyes, his mind fell open, and I saw his goodness. He exhaled, and I felt his desire, not for power, but for love.

I allowed my lips to touch his briefly before pulling back and pouring all of the love I could muster into one look. He collapsed into my embrace and I breathed against his ear, “If you allow it to take hold, hope will crush fear. It will not take away the pain or struggle, but it will keep it from overwhelming you.

“Hope makes life bearable.”

With his hands on my waist and his face in my hair, he cried. The sobs he’d held in earlier broke free, and I felt the strength of that release. So much more powerful than a sexual one.

“Why? Why are you here?” He whispered, again.
“Fate.” I breathed.
“Are you an angel? …A witch?”
I giggled, “No. Just a silly girl who isn’t afraid. Just a broken girl who wishes she could heal the world. Just a backwards clairvoyant with far too much empathy.”
“A healer,” he sighed. “A magical, mystical healer, set on my path to save me… from myself.”
“Perhaps we were set on each other’s path. For you have saved me, as well. Given purpose to my gift.”

As I stood, comforting him, he held me and I too began to cry. Hearing me, he pulled back, concern changing his face and making him so beautiful.

“Why are you crying?” He touched my cheek, and I smiled at the transformation.

“They are your tears. I’m simply helping you release them faster.”

He held me again, tightly, and the healing truly began.

When I felt him grow stronger, I held him out from me and stared into the birth of my creation. He was suddenly a vividly attractive young man, and confidence seemed to blossom within him. I also recognized the emptiness that he might feel in my absence, like being torn from your mother or your protector.

I stroked his face and whispered, “When my touch is gone, my magic will remain. Use it carefully and wisely, and you will find great love. It won’t always be easy, but hope will see you through it.”

As he stepped back, he didn’t need to speak. We shared something stronger than apologies and more honest. Our spirits had touched. I believe he will always be a part of me.

And I hope that I will always be a part of him. And that he uses the magic I gave him to infect others.

With kindness. And mercy.

And hope.

Magic Garden


The magic of spring refuses to go unnoticed.

My tulips in full bloom…

That snow-ball bush burgeoning with the promise of floral explosion…

Hostas reaching through the earth with more vibrancy than any year before…

Strawberry vines taking over my not quite forgotten vegetable garden, peppering the ground with sweet, white flowers…

Basil perfumes the air, along with the tiny, violet buds popping open on my lilac bush…

Soaking up the evening sun and languishing in the warm breeze…

Listening to the happy songs of the frogs, birds and crickets…

Breathing in the life all around and within me…

The magic of my garden is working hard to fill me up, light my smile and make me whole.

My magic.
The magic I make.
In my garden.


don’t miss you at all by Antek Pyra via DeviantArt.com

“It hurts…”
“What hurts, dear one?”
“That’s not pain, that’s desire.”
“That’s not pain either, impatient girl.”
“Not helping…”
“Ah, yes. Your personal brand of pain. Your love is so strong.”
“It really hurts.”
“Stop doing that to yourself.”
“Why are you here again?”
“Because, you’re reading.”
“I’m learning, not quitting…”
“Yes, you are learning. You are also seeing.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Not at all… I still want you to surrender.”
“To Him?”
“Your love makes it about him.”
“I still don’t know how.”
“Read what you wrote, all those years ago. You gave yourself the keys.”
“It WAS prescient?!”
I told you that you were magical.
“But, I’m not strong enough.”
“You are. You know you are. But you are still afraid.”
“I’m afraid that I’m changing too much, that I can’t be what he needs.”
“You aren’t changing. You are recognizing.”
“Recognition hurts?”
“You make it hurt. You want it to hurt.”
“Because I know hurt…”
“Hurting yourself is the wrong kind of pain.”
“I know… I’d like to quit that.”
“Yes! Because you are strong. You recognize the difference between that hurt, and the pain you truly desire.”
“I want more than personal strength, though. I want to be valuable.”
“Valuable to whom?”
“Someone who sees me for who I am.”
You are, sweet girl. I recognize you.
“You want me to surrender, completely… I don’t know how.”
“Then keep reading. Keep seeing. Keep learning. Keep growing.”
“And if it hurts?”
“Show it to him. He will help you.”
“Why should he?”
“Because it’s his job.”
“Is it? I’m not sure…”
“Shouldn’t he decide that? Shouldn’t that be his to control?”
“Oh… That is surrendering…”

Broken Diamond

The dark by EliseEnchanted via DeviantArt.com
The dark by EliseEnchanted via DeviantArt.com

She was as beautiful as a precious gem. She sparkled in the sun and glittered in the candlelight.

The warmth that shone from inside her was mesmerizing, but if you picked her up, she was cold and hard, with sharp edges that made her difficult to hold.

He didn’t mind. He polished and protected her, wrapping her up and keeping her out of sight of others who may admire her beauty and try to steal her away from him.

Had he paid attention, he would have noticed her inner glow diminish, each time he locked her away, blocking the sun from feeding her.

Had he looked closely, he may have seen the tiny cracks that grew, each day, as she was left to try to manufacture her own light, instead.

Had he witnessed them, he might have figured out that she wasn’t the stone he believed her to be at all.

But one day, as he sat polishing and admiring his prize, he did see one of those imperfections, and held her to the light to examine her closely.

The flaws he saw were startling and significant, causing him to drop her to the ground… where she cracked into pieces.

Nothing but a bit of glass. Not created to impress, but molded to fool, ensnare, and hold captive.

And HE was the fool who had kept her, trapped inside, for so long.

Once she was free of her shell, she soaked up the magic of the sun and grew more beautiful than you could ever imagine.

She took on the fiery attributes that fed her, dancing and swirling with such magnificence that all he could do was stare, and wonder at her extraordinary new form. Before looking away, baffled by what he couldn’t comprehend.

“I didn’t know,” he cried in despair.

“You didn’t try to know,” she said softly, watching him sadly for a while, before gliding out into the lovely light of day.

As she skipped and danced and revelled in her freedom, she found a different world around her.

People watched her, others joined her, many delighted in her in a way no one ever had, while she was trapped within that capsule.

She basked in the pleasure of an audience, enveloping herself in it at every turn.

But, when the sun set, the crowd disappeared. And the darkness pressed into her lightness with a fury.

Suddenly, drawn to the edges of the shadows, she was overtaken with need. Some mysterious presence magnetized her, as though the fire within her was molten steel.

Out of the blackness strode a new admirer. Strong and capable, with eyes that she knew could see everything, and a sadness that was almost enchanting, in it’s strange, taciturn way.

He leapt on her, like a beast of the night, drinking in her light and feeding off her power.

She did not fight him, but begged him to continue, to devour her, to reduce her to the quivering, mewling mess she’d never known that she always wanted to be.

When he had his fill, he lifted her and cradled her, whispering sweetness and love, and promising that his darkness would never overcome her lightness. Then he carried her into the sunrise, so that she might feed on it’s magic, forever.

“I am but a broken diamond, flawed and discarded,” she warned, longing to avoid the despair she had caused, once before.

“You are priceless, my precious gem, and I will guide you to see that truth, as you have guided me into the light.”


Surrender by Flubberwurm via DeviantArt.com
Surrender by Flubberwurm via DeviantArt.com

“What are you afraid of?”
“Be specific.”
“Losing myself. Proving my ineptness.”
“But you’re not inept!”
“I can’t cope. I have no patience.”
“That’s simply not true.”
“When have I ever been patient?”
“You’re a mother. You may lose it, sometimes, but it’s in your nature.”
“Ha! I know some people who would disagree.”
“People who make you feel like you can’t cope?”
“Perhaps, it’s time to start listening to your heart and not the minds of others.”
“That would mean surrendering to my heart…”
“What are you REALLY afraid of?”
“That is his word.”
“And my fear.”
“Use that patience, that hides in your heart, surrender to it and all will eventually become clear.”
“Patience that I don’t recognize in myself?”
“I’m supposed to rely on something I’m not sure is really there?”
“In myself? I’ve never been good at that.”
“That’s why I give you this challenge, dear child.”
“What if I fail? Like I did today?”
“You will try again. There is always a new day.”
“Why did you decide to talk to me tonight?”
“Because you needed it. You were about to quit.”
“Quit what?”
“I cannot explain. But you hold a lot of magic within you. And if you quit, the world would lose that.”
“Magic… I use that word a lot.”
“Because you feel it. It’s presence is strong. Keep loving. You feed it, with your love.”
“What if I’m not strong enough? What if this all too much? What if I’m too much?”
“Dear child, you could never be too much. Don’t question; have faith.”
“What if I need you again?”
“Surrender, dear one.”