If I Could Give You My Heart ©2021 Louise Gallagher If I could I would give you my words plump and full of promises dancing in the ecstasy of never having to leave you without words If I could I would paint you the sunrise bold and fiery colours streaking across the sky full of morning delight threaded with gold melting like butter upon a piece of warm buttered toast If I could I would sing you a song of sunset full of sun-bathed mountains stretched out across the horizon like a dragon sleeping at the edge of the world where sky tumbles into the sea and the moon rises high and pulls the night up into a sky full of stars falling like snow melting your dreams awake If I could give you my heart would you listen deep to the beat of its silence echoing throughout the vastness of time wooing your fear of falling asleep like a lullaby spun into a cradle of love that can never break If I could give you my heart would you listen deep?
Yesterday, I entered my studio without any clear idea of what I wanted/needed to create or without having heard what the muse was whispering into creation.
I opened my art journal to a blank page. Threw down some colour and text and lines. And took a breath.
A deep one.
I closed my eyes, let my conscious mind sink down, down, into the crucible of my belly, into the font of where creativity rises up to inspire, cajole, exhort me into being wildly, joyfully present to all that is present where ever I’m at.
And that’s when I felt the murmurings.
Of words. Of song. Of flowers and trees and birds and life flowing.
I started to draw and paint and when I was finished, she appeared.
I told C.C. “She’s my Frida Kahlo meets Marie Antoinette.” He laughed and asked, “Where’s the cake?”
“Her cake is the words she spins into stories the flowers breathe in,” I replied. (I might even have been a little flippant. But the muse didn’t care…)
And thus, the words appeared… Her words grew into the stories flowers told to chase away grey skies and cloudy days.
This morning, when I sat down at my desk, I didn’t know what I was going to write.
I closed my eyes, took in a breath and watched it sink with my conscious mind floating on air down, down, down into the crucible of my belly. The busy places in my heart grew still. The stuck places melted… and that’s when I felt the murmurings.
Of words dancing and sunrises melting and hearts listening deeply and breaking open to love.
And the words guided my heart into creative expression.