This heart can hold a country,
A mountain range, or an island of white birds
As the sun comes up and the sun goes down,
There are songs of brokenness and songs of putting back together.
In this heart will be storm and flood, or rain of fire.
There is walking away and coming together.
There are rooms of emptiness that need no breath.
There are no rooms at all, only fields of flowers.
There is always room for children to play.
In this heart are oceans with sailing boats to take you home.
As for enemies, let them go their own way.
This heart has doorways for leaving, for what needs to be left behind.
There is always a room for anyone who’s gone astray.
The heart hammers a song of all this.
There it is beneath your ribs.
It will sing you how to live.
It will tell you to forgive.
— Joy Harjo