We called it the normal heart,
the place I found you when you came looking.
When asked to define it, we said it was
‘the ability to depend upon.’
Like the early bird’s call,
the beauty is in the recurrence.
Each morning, the lark sings,
“Here is the place your body can rest.”
Some call it magnetic,
the remembering of a name long forgotten.
Stronger than coincidence,
There’s something about habit
that keeps us reach, reaching, reached
Take off your shoes, make yourself at home.
I have been waiting for so long.’
— “The Normal Heart,” by freethepoets