My Life In Word

Mending

A heart can break from death,
from the empty chair at the table,
from a voice you still expect to hear
when morning enters the room.

It can break from rejection,
from hands that let go too easily,
from being almost chosen,
almost loved, almost enough.

It can break from loss,
from dreams packed away in silence,
from names you no longer say
because they bruise the mouth.

It can break from betrayal,
from trust split clean down the middle,
from discovering the knife
was held by someone you loved.

It can break from disappointment,
from prayers that seem unanswered,
from roads that close
after you have walked so far.

But mending comes quietly.
Not all at once.
Not like lightning.
More like dawn loosening the dark.

It comes in tears finally allowed to fall,
in breath returning to the body,
in sleep after nights of sorrow,
in laughter that surprises you.

It comes when you stop asking
why the heart had to shatter
and begin noticing
what still beats beneath the ruins.

A heart mends by remembering
it was made for more than breaking,
that even cracked vessels hold water,
and even wounded things can bloom.

Simona A. Brinson


Photo by Ante Gudelj on Unsplash 
©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.