When My Heart Began Beating Again

By JyctManda Andrews

I didn’t mean to fail so hard in life.

After so many tries, I let go.

Stopped trying altogether.

Then suddenly, you appeared,

not one voice but many.

Like sparks I didn’t recognize.

I needed something real,

but never thought I’d see

strangers light a fire

in the hollow parts of me.

I wasn’t searching.

I was barely alive,

like a coal of ashes.

And somehow, together,

you lit something

I believed had already died.

You don’t know what you’ve done for me.

You woke parts
I thought were lost,
not just buried deep.
Peace stirred within me.
It felt like my heart
began beating again
without realizing
it had stopped.
Your voices in the dark,
pulling me back from my demons.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just steady. Just breathing.
Every time you speak
of calm, of mindfulness,
of breath,
it stays with me.
It’s the only thing
that’s made me feel
something in weeks,
months,
maybe even years.
Time gets lost in the mix.

I wasn’t looking.

Or maybe, deep down,

I was always reaching.

Funny how a group of strangers

can feel warmer

than those you’ve known for years.

Like you see the quiet places

hidden in my chest.

Like you understand

the parts I try to veil.

You’re miles away,

walking roads I may never see,

but somehow right here,

closer than the scars

I’ve carried for years

Along the way,
I turned away from all religion.
Closed that door firmly
after too much trauma
and suffering.
I told myself
it was all the same.
Just another system.
Another wound waiting to happen.
That monkey mind,
don’t set it free.
When it starts to spiral,
your teachings
steady me.

In the icy dark places,
your voices pull me back
from the slow drowning.
You inspire peace.
You make the world feel softer.
In your quiet steps,
you unlocked something inside me,
a mindfulness,
a sense of well being,
a silence not meant to isolate
but to soothe my aching soul.
I’ll always be grateful
for the Buddhist monks
who walked for peace
from Fort Worth, Texas
to Washington, D.C.
I mistook structure for control.
I built a defensive framework
to hold out the pain.
Through your teachings,
I began to see it differently.
I found peace in something
I had written off,
discovering a structured practice
that actually calms me.
It left me destabilized at first.
Trauma can blur the difference.
Realizing that
was a kind of awakening
in itself.
And in time,
I saw it was in a good way.

Editor’s Note
At Elevate: A Buddhist Journal, we primarily publish articles, essays, research, reflections, and news related to Buddhism and its relevance in contemporary life. Poetry has not traditionally been part of our editorial focus. However, we received a poem whose sincerity and emotional depth transcend conventional categories.
What moved us was not merely its literary quality, but the authenticity of the experience it conveys. In simple yet powerful language, the author reflects on a journey from despair, isolation, and disillusionment toward a renewed sense of peace and connection. The poem offers a deeply personal account of how the teachings of mindfulness, compassion, unity, and healing—embodied by the monks participating in the Walk for Peace from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C.—touched a life in a profound and unexpected way.
Readers will notice that the poem does not present Buddhism as a doctrine to be accepted, but as a lived experience of healing. It speaks to a truth familiar to many practitioners: that transformation often begins not through argument or persuasion, but through the quiet example of kindness, presence, and compassionate action.
We have chosen to publish this work because it reminds us that the impact of the Dhamma cannot always be measured in scholarly discourse, public events, or institutional achievements. Sometimes its deepest influence is found in the silent awakening of a single human heart.
We are honored to share this reflection with our readers. – Editor