The Altar of My Heart



On the altar of my heart is

a caldera dressed in winter

with a lid of clouds edged in pink

and a parade of swans, Trumpet and Tundra.

Surrounded by majestic ranges and

expansive fields of sparkling white,

the sacred bowl glows in rose and gold

as the sun retreats behind the rim.


On the altar of my heart is

a dance of birds— 

finches and sparrows and doves at the feeder.

Up and down in consecutive groups,

catching seeds between cycles of rain.

Waves of movement follow landings and stillness,

an ebb and flow of patient persistence.


On the altar of my heart is

a whale of a dream in which I’m floating on the surface

of an inky cove.

Surrounded by clusters of broken ice,

I begin to sink into the depths of fear.

Suddenly, I sense her enormous presence

as she eases in by my side.

My fear is displaced by the warmth of her skin.

I am buoyed by her gentle touch.

When I wake her message of devotion is clear

as she helps me navigate the waves of trust.


On the altar of my heart is

the nest of a wren tucked between branches at

the top of an elm.

I marvel at this secret and its precious size,

kept hidden all summer behind leafy walls.

Looking up I am touched by this tender remnant

of life exposed by the naked winter.


On the altar of my heart are

an abundance of offerings. 

Some gifted by dear ones and their attentive witnessing.

Some come as dreams, messengers of awakening.

Some are gifts from my own quiet attention,

the everyday sacred in between ordinary moments. 


What about yours? 

What has found its way to the altar of your heart?

Wrenna RosepoetryComment