Adrienne Rich | Women My three sisters are sitting on rocks of black obsidian. For the first time, in this light, I can see who they are. My first sister is sewing her costume for the procession. She is going as the Transparent lady and all her nerves will be visible. My second sister is also sewing, at the seam over her heart which has never healed entirely,
“Your heart,” he says, planting a needle on a point between her brows, “beats too fast. Too strong. Works too hard.” More needles. Side of her neck, her throat, her shins, her feet, on her back. Immobilized by the needles, she wants to tell him This heart has always chosen its own pace, won’t slow for anyone’s sake, not even its own. Makes its own rules as hearts have done these ages now, maybe till all time.Quite beyond reason,
How did it come to pass that we should love with our hearts instead of the liver? The pre-Spanish Filipino, like many of his contemporaries in Southeast Asia, believed that the liver (atay) is the seat of love. More: it is the bodily center of a person’s being, the source of power, courage, and strength. It is named in Philippine languages—atay, atey, hatay, ati—and has spawned numerous derivations that signify what is treasured, affective and elemental.
The boy at at the far end of the train car kept looking behind him as if he were afraid or expecting someone and then she appeared in the glass door of the forward car and he rose and opened the door and let her in