When my heart . . .

When my heart has been smashed cement into asphalt

I’ve been to this place too many times before.

This time older, this time more broken . . .

I know they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,

But what if it is more than you can take?

How do I make sense of it this time?

Fit the pieces back into some cohesive beating core?

My heart feels dead, bloody and broken

Like a throbbing artery spurting blood into Life.

I am gushing & lonely & all forsaken


But there it is.  It is what it is.  And railing against it only drives the pain

Deeper.  Only tightens my fist.  It makes hurting an art form

It makes art from a lie.

So I breathe.  I know not what else to do.

And try as I might after breathing, I try desperately to uncurl one tiny finger

So that I might let some Light & Love into the cracks.

I will heal.  But slower this time.  Harder this time, for I am older & more fragile.

I chose You to give you my heart too completely.

You treated it so callously, so shallowly & ran on your merry way.

I hope you will be sorry some day.

And I will gather up these pieces,

In a dust pan

I sweep, I sweep,

I cry, I purge, I rail

And I  . . .



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