A Heart Poem . . .

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Heart

A heart breaking is a real thing. It happens in an instant, the way lightening strikes a great oak tree in Michigan during the summer. You know the conditions are right (you heard the weather report earlier in the day) but you still don’t see it coming. When lightening strikes, your hair turns white and your skins crawls like a caterpillar and your teeth rattle like a sack of Chicklets. Your hands swim in the air, as if looking for the surface of the ocean. You can’t breathe. You think you’re going to die. (And in a way you do.) Why did you read that email? What possessed you to open that hidden box in the back of the closet? Why did you ask that question? But then something (someone) slaps you in the middle of the back, and you suck the sweetness of air into your lungs. At first it hurts. Like ice cracking inside your chest. And then you think: “This only happens to other people.” But it’s really happening and it’s not a dream and it’s not a movie and it’s not a novel and it’s certainly not a “reality” television show. It’s your life. In an odd kind of way you are relieved. (Being exceptional is such a burden.) Who knew? Grace is not getting over it, but learning you are not above it. If you’re lucky, one day your heart will beat for another human being. And it it will break. And then you will be alive.

 

 

 

 

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