BROKEN (A POEM)
He didn’t break my heart.
I broke my own heart.
I broke it into two pieces.
One piece for God
And one piece for the little
girl cowering within me.
Little had never received a gift from me before.
Hell. I didn’t even look at her,
let alone give her presents.
But, on that day when my knees hit the floor,
I felt her wet eyes and handed her a piece of my heart.
She was terrified and lonely. For years.
Silent screams, like the ones in my nightmares.
I couldn’t hear her. No one could.
She believed that no one would, could, did love her.
She believed that no one would ever commit to her.
No one would stay.
I tried to kill her with tequila,
too many times.
She wasn’t going to die.
He didn’t break my heart.
I broke my own heart.
I broke it into two pieces and
then four pieces and
then four million pieces.
I scattered the pieces like seeds.
And, then I wept. Grief.
How could I do such a thing?
Destroy myself in this way? For what?
Then the flowers emerged,
when I couldn’t weep anymore.
My true voice whispered,
remember.
And, I remembered.
The roses and geraniums.
The lilies and orchids.
The little girl in her fairy crown, in her joy,
and together we play with the butterflies.
It was never about him,
it will never be about him.
I broke my own heart
to know myself,
to know union
with my own Love,
to break it apart,
and put it
all back together.
To remember who
I am.
Grateful to my dear Jon and all my beloved teachers.
