Poem on Heartbreak

Sitting near a creek,
With the flow of water and a mending heart
I looked at the water and breath into the depth of my soul.
But this depth had broken heart in every path.
I wondered and asked the heart, ‘What hurts more, your own existence or their existence in you?
The heart took a beat and said,’ Who knew the difference until they broke the glass and left the pieces to pierce into every inch of me.
I replied,’ He betrayed you.
The heart smiled, ‘Betrayal is not what their weapon was, it was my faith.
I cried and tears rolled down into the creek.
The heart said ,’ When you cry , I transform the hurting heat into warm water waiting to flow into the earth and get one with all that is , as it’s your presence that gives me space to beat again , to breathe again , to live again , to love again.
But it hurts when I cry,
The heart held me and said, ‘Oh it is not hurt, it’s me aching in pain and speaking when I have no words to what goes within, your eyes the holy ocean is where I find space to flow and scream.
The tears were just like rain into the running water and, ‘The running water took every tear in its hands and let it nurture and grow into the ocean that it really is. It hugged and cradled every tear and sang a song that soothed every nerve within me.
The eyes dried but the heart was moist, soaked in love and cradling in the womb of pain, yes, the womb that has waters of hurt to dance in and every flowing sensation to grow and rest with. It is the womb of pain that teaches me to savor the pleasure of being.
The connection of the eyes and heart shocked me up and made me look into every corner of my body that connects and relates to when I feel hurt.
In my hurt,
Their lives
The aching heart
The deep eyes
The dry lips
The shivering teeth
The numb ears
The fallen shoulders
The caged chest
The screaming gut
The tightening uterus
The crawling legs.
The fearing feet
All of them come together to just remind me,’ See you might be hurt, and we are here experiencing every bit of it with you, hold hands with us, we need you!
What about the rage that I feel towards him?
The heart said,’ That’s the hurt again showing its power to destroy but also empower when held in the present.
How do I hold this burning, windy rage?
The heart giggled, you don’t hold it with a closed fist to tame it, you shake it out and let it sink and transform within you. It transforms into the cells of what you call a new life.
Every emotion in a heartbreak has a purpose, the purpose unfolds, it has a process, but only when the emotions express themselves and transform.
It is just not death and rebirth, it is also everything in between, the mess, the shit, the flow, the rest, the pause, the fall.
It is every sensation that forms a being, a being that has all the power and capacity to be hurt and fall like a leaf and embrace the oneness with the ground that opens its arms for the cycle to continue.
The process of holding is not closing in to form walls and cage, the process of holding is to open and expand to let it flow through every inch and fall gracefully into our being.
I asked, ‘When do you think it will be all done, and I can be okay again?
The heart replied, ‘Oh the mess is my body but, why do you want to let go of it?
The mess is you; the mess is life; the mess is the creative force.
The mess in us reflects the mess that is all here.
The mess of the roots
The mess of the branch
The mess of the leaves
The mess of the soil
The mess of the fallen leaves
The mess of the mushrooms
The mess of the unfurling seeds
The mess of the crawling creatures
The mess of the nest
The mess of the carcasses
The mess of the blood
The mess of the emotions
The mess of the sensations
The mess of the force
The mess of the whirling wind
The mess of the protecting rage
The mess of the brightening colors
The mess of the rhythmic sounds
The mess of the screeching gut
The mess of the loving heart
The mess of the cycling ruptures
The mess of the connecting repair
The mess of the shimmering water
The mess of the falling water
The mess of the creepers and climbers
The mess of the shrubs and herbs
The mess of the grass and wildflowers along your path
The mess of the orgasming bodies
The mess of the furling flowers
The mess of the roaring laughters
The mess of the working sweat
The mess of the crying hungers
The mess of the thirst belonging
The mess of the blooming differences
The mess of the longing love
The mess of the breaking nerves
The mess of the furling clouds
The mess of the brewing puddles
The mess of the crowding people
The mess of the creating artist
The mess of the longing desires
The mess of the constructing nests
So, then I don’t get rid of the mess?
The heart replied, ‘Oh no darling the idea of getting rid is what gave birth to structure, if it would have been integrating the mess then we’d have what we called the flow of the Whole and not a wall between the mess and the structure.
How do you clean the mess? The idea of cleaning is what dominated the mess?
So why do you get rid of it?
I sobbed , ‘ You can see the mess and be the mess , but look around the mess has no place , it gets pushed , grabbed , pulled , oppressed , denied , walked over , shamed , disgusted , covered , patched , pathologized , medicalized , abandoned , , marginalized , unrelated , disconnected . It is all alone.
The heart opened its arms and said, “And it still remains a mess, that’s strength and courage, not always change is the language of growth, sometimes it’s being just being so I can create from the mess that the mess is here to propel.
I replied, ‘What if the mess breaks me from within and forever?
The mess expands, it seems broken when the forces and energies have nowhere to express.
So, the question is not what if it breaks you, the question can it break through you for a whole to emerge?
But what if the whole that emerges has mess?
Then, you have found a home for me to exist and breathe through you. The love and compassion will flow through you every day from me as I am in this home within you.

_Heart and I found Home; the question is how can we extend our homes to each other for more hearts to connect? it’s the connection that is the purpose for its being here. The deprivation from its purpose is what hurt is all about.

– A conversation with a Broken Heart, or maybe a heart in its journey to find Home within.