Faster Than My Heart. {poetry}
{source}
I grew up on Jewish mysticism, ancient Kabbalistic teachings that explore the anatomy of the soul and its dynamic relationship with the body, world, and Creator. Kabbalah explains that every soul is breathed into a human body — its temple — for a purpose: to heal what is broken in oneself, in those who cross our life path, and in the world at large.
I wrote this poem on one of those days when my body and soul just weren’t in tandem. It is painful to sense the soul moving faster than the body, it truly hurts. See, my soul has dreams that are not barred by reality; indeed, the soul is made of Infinity. But my body hits the pavement and reminds me that this world has edges and corners, that the body has a limited pace… and that, perhaps, our infinite souls will forever move faster than our finite hearts.
In this spoken word poem, I invite you to join me on a spiritual journey, as I battle and find meaning in the bittersweet paradox that humanity is made of.
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You ask me why I walk so fast
I laugh and tell you that I am five years old
And my father is speed-walking to the synagogue
If I don’t keep up, I will lose him
But deep down I know
That long before I was five
Long before I was born
My soul was destined to beat faster than my heart
They said, go down and make miracles
Make this world a better place
Don’t waste what we gave you
Don’t squander your talent
And I don’t know about you
But any magic show I’ve ever seen
Happened fast, faster than my eyes could believe
And I think, I’m here to make magic, create change
Turn exile on its head, free the Infinite from its chains
And how fast, how fast can I do that
Here, stuck in a body
Held back for every forward leap
Muzzled when I need to speak
Stopped by a clock, or a hand, or a law, or another voice
By ethics, or egos, or someone else’s choice
Stopped by my unrelenting will to make this life beautiful
Your will is in your way, she told me
They all told me, they keep telling me
You want things so much
You reach out so strong
That they slip through your fingers
Like a forgotten song
Because miracles are not made in pressure-filled moments
Miracles are sewn, slowly, from fragments
Over lifetimes
Maybe I am the miracle
Still standing, still here
After so many times I should have never come up again for air
A beautiful, breathing miracle
Still peeking our heads out from this cold winter earth
Still saying, we will, we want to give birth
Maybe we are the miracle
The sign of a Maker
Believing so much in life
We defy what should break her
Burning with desire
We burn out to leave a mark
Our souls forever beating
Faster than our hearts.
[youtube]AguZbTAFVsQ[/youtube]
Video Credits: Ruchama Ehrenhalt
***
Sara Hecht is an Australian-born singer/songwriter, poet and storyteller, and lover of all things mystical, artistic and human. Passionate about interfaith chaplaincy and spiritual healing, Sara has performed for audiences as diverse as women in US State & Federal Correctional Institutions. To learn more, visit her website or follow her on Facebook.
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