Bitter.

In the desert,

I saw a creature, naked, bestial,

Who, squatting upon the ground,

Held his heart in his hands,

And ate of it.

I said, "Is it good, friend?"

"It is bitter--bitter," he answered;

"But I like it

"Because it is bitter

"And because it is my heart."

Stephen Crane

Sometimes I feel
like that naked creature.

I eat my own
bitter heart
and its bitterness
lingers on my lips.

Sometimes when I am unkind
I feel my soul fill up with garbage.

The word garbage
is so striking--
like an expletive.

Garbage is worthless.
It gets dumped
far away from 
where anyone would want to be.
.
.
.
On Friday
(because I have
the greatest friends)
we each took a balloon
and let it go
to let go.

I picked a little flower
from a bush
as we were walking to the park.
(It's in my right hand
in the picture.)

I wrote a little note to God
and I tied it to the balloon
with the flower.

It said,
I picked this flower for You.
I'm attaching
all my bitterness to this balloon.
Please let it become love
by the time it reaches heaven.

I was nervous.
When it was my turn,
I paused
until I was ready--
like when I walk confidently
to the end of the diving board,
then wait
to jump.

But when I finally let it fly,
it flew
straight up
fast and free.

Some of my friends' balloons
hadn't risen as high,
but floated intimately
over the roofs of the houses
next to the park
where we were.

But not mine.

It did just what
I hoped it would.