Meera

If my heart had legs and feet
It would have run away.
Projecting from my chest on beat-
A simple, deft display.
 

Were my heart to grow a pair of hands,
Their task to heal the earth.
The torn, the ravaged, and the damned-
All misunderstood - would find rebirth.
 

In truth, my heart is many things:
A drum that beats, a bird that sings.