The metaphorical heart

In April, Sandy emailed me this:

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

i carry your heart with me

She stole the words from an e.e. cummings poem and rearranged them. The subject line of the email was "I rewrite this poem, a little bit." I loved it then (and I enjoyed the cummings original), but I've thought about it several times in the last couple of months. 

i carry your heart with me

Yesterday was pretty bearable; I almost felt good. And then I cracked late yesterday afternoon, became confused about reality. Then the horrors of this summer and the change in our lives (my life) came crashing in on me. Today, the pain's been in my chest again, a weight and an emptiness combined. Right where my heart is.

i carry your heart with me

I have ceased to see a difference between the physical world and the metaphorical, between the physical world and the metaphysical. It certainly feels like Sandy has taken part of my heart with her, just ripped it out of my chest, leaving a gaping wound. And the only time that wound doesn't hurt is when I feel her presence, carrying my heart with her, reuniting it with the rest of me.
 

(The actual poem, as written by e.e. cummings, is here:http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179622)