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The Anatomy of Peace

The Anatomy of Peace, a poem by John Roedel. His words are the most beautiful reminder to be right here and right now.


To listen to the author speaking this poem, please click here)


my brain and heart divorced


a decade ago


over who was to blame about how big of a mess I have become


eventually, they couldn't be in the same room with each other

now my head and heart share custody of me


I stay with my brain during the week


and my heart gets me on weekends


they never speak to one another

instead, they give me the same note to pass to each other every week


and their notes they send to one another always says the same thing:

"This is all your fault"


on Sundays my heart complains about how my head has let me down in the past


and on Wednesday my head lists all of the times my heart has screwed things up for me in the future


they blame each other for the state of my life

there's been a lot of yelling - and crying


so, lately, I've been spending a lot of time with my gut

who serves as my unofficial therapist


most nights, I sneak out of the window in my ribcage

and slide down my spine and collapse on my gut's plush leather chair that's always open for me


~ and I just sit sit sit sit until the sun comes up


last evening, my gut asked me if I was having a hard time being caught between my heart and my head


I nodded


I said I didn't know if I could live with either of them anymore


"my heart is always sad about something that happened yesterday while my head is always worried about something that may happen tomorrow," I lamented

my gut squeezed my hand

"I just can't live with my mistakes of the past or my anxiety about the future," I sighed


my gut smiled and said:

"in that case, you should go stay with your lungs for a while,"


I was confused the look on my face gave it away


"if you are exhausted about your heart's obsession with the fixed past and your mind's focus on the uncertain future


your lungs are the perfect place for you


there is no yesterday in your lungs there is no tomorrow there either

there is only now there is only inhale there is only exhale there is only this moment


there is only breath


and in that breath you can rest while your heart and head work their relationship out."


this morning,

while my brain was busy reading tea leaves


and while my heart was staring at old photographs


I packed a little bag and walked to the door of my lungs


before I could even knock she opened the door with a smile and as a gust of air embraced me she said


"what took you so long?"

~ John Roedel (johnroedel.com)


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