It breaks my heart to think of you
out there in pain; I hope you, too,
likewise consider how I feel
in your attempts to keep it real.
I wonder, though, if broken hearts
are not in fact where real growth starts:
when pieces back to one are stitched
and back to front, are often switched
and bound with glue and tape and nails
that hold when weaker thread might fail
to make the paper thin, weak heart
more thick than it was at the start
and filled with spaces in between,
along the torn lines, not too clean
that each edge matches with the next
in perfect fit. And I reflect
that with my broken heart and yours,
each one survivor of strange cures,
we grow more strong with every break,
with every foolish, sad mistake
and end up better off, it seems,
let loose from small and tidy dreams
thanks to the scars and tissue formed
around our hearts to keep us warm.
22 AUG 2005
It’s been a busy week. I’ve lost a cat, a tooth and a pound or two in the heat.
