In sorrow's grip, they say your heart can break.
Yet such a claim, I find not wholly true.
For it's not pain alone that hearts forsake,
But rather empty spaces beating blue.
From the first gaze of your mother's eyes,
your heart will crack and rip itself apart.
A continued practice when new Loves arise,
and all that follow gain a fragment of your heart.
In friends you meet, in places far and near,
in fleeting moments shared, in nature's grace.
Each fragment split, a testament sincere,
from moments shared that time cannot efface.
So in your sadness, do not despair,
for from all heartbreak, it is love you share.
About the Creator
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Amazing congratulations, can you read mine also?
Amazing congratulations, can you read mine also?
Such a beautiful way to look at heartbreak and what heartbreak really means
Nicely written.
I love the twist on the meaning of heartbreak. Beautifully written.