Truth (to be what is)

How many times can a heart

break.

It is endless, just as love.

And how quickly the impulse to
unbreak
comes, like a hand grasped around
a bleeding wound.


Apply pressure first, we say,

as if healing begins as stress,

as if the laying on of hands makes

meaning

Not knowing

yet, not trusting,
that a heart does break.

It must.

I do break. I must have.

Unbreaking isn’t healing.

Stop your hands and let what will

grow deep

scar.

Let me break
and feel —endlessly, just as love.

31poemsMegan Jones