Mending A Broken Heart

I held his heart in my hands

In pieces shattered, a broken land.

“Can you fix it?” he’d asked

While I stared at the impossible task.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said,

Placing a kiss on his forehead.

I sat and pondered and tried to start

But how best to mend his broken heart?

With needle and thread to keep it together?

Not glue; too weak for changes in weather…

Metal would give it strength,

But time and rust would wear its length.

So I thought and then thought some more

Until the answer came as if called for.

I began putting the pieces back one by one,

Working throughout the daytime sun

And on through the darkening night,

Continuing on despite

The pain in my back and bleeding fingertips,

Making sure there’d be no rips.

Then one day I was done,

And I smiled at the war I’d won.

For when you breathed life into their chests

You knew, for them, you’d never rest.

So when my son’s heart was broken

I listened to the words spoken

From my own, and heeded what they’d said,

Then gave him my whole one instead.

And with the love I’ve never denied

I sewed up the pieces of his then closed it inside

Myself.

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Oasis

She lived her life dessicated,

An arid desert in the heat of summer…

Dusty sand that scours raw the skin

And the few crumbling brown plants,

dead for lack of moisture.

 

Then came the storms

With drops that hissed and sizzled,

And drowned the parched land

Bringing life to the xeriscape,

And hope bloomed in profusion.

 

*First new poem of 2018

Learning To Dance

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Holding back,

watching them, watching us

fighting to try, to see beyond the pain,

marking the line in between

waiting for the first to make a move

we begin only to stop for the rain.

 

Then they come, demons on the wind,

and we crouch with shields above

as the dead on cold ground are lain.

Thunder roars and we meet them,

blood pounding in our veins,

and so we begin learning how to dance

in the rain.

 

Voices ignored as men drown out,

their Lilliputian minds closed to the sun

we defend them, too,

though cases reversed we’d hang,

but we still have to try to hold back the flood

until our dying breaths say “we’re done”.

 

For freedom means more than miniscule men,

and someday they’ll realize we did this for them,

with nothing more than liberty our gain

we tried to teach them how to dance in the rain.

Freedom from fairytales

freedom-from-fairytales-wellemperedbards-wordpress-com

Freedom from fairytales
If all we are is shadows
And stardust waiting to return
We never need fear being
Spellbound
And can revel in the freedom
Of our disenchantment.
No call on us to heed
A single second’s breath
We are alive, we live
So what? Is death
The end of everything
We wished for
Or is it simply
Unbeing? Returning
To the ashes and dirt
We came from
Before we learned
To rub those into our wounds
And make them worse.
Is it release,
When hope and pain are over?
Our breath will cease
To matter to what remains
And those we leave behind
Can take our stories
Find the plot-holes
And leave us in peace.

 

With big thanks to poetry-channel-supreme, Jackie Coiffa, whose poem ‘Shadow People‘ inspired this.