For most of my life I have been nursing a broken heart. There were times the breaker was me and at others it was someone I trusted and loved. A mother and a father are on that list as are lovers I gave all of me I knew how to. And there is the name of a few “friends” close and dear who found reason to violate the bond that was shared and wound my heart.
I am not unique. Everyone has had their heart broken a number of times. Some recover quickly, but I have always be one of those slow to heal. It takes years and even then a little of the wound always seems to survive within me. Maybe it is like that for everyone.
“WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO?”
Written by Linda McLellan
and posted here with many thanks to the author
Where do broken hearts go?
When the tears don’t seem to stop
When a part of you feels missing
And hands move slowly on the clock
Your thoughts are filled with memories
Swirling through your mind
You pray to stop the aching
But you know it will take time
Sometimes you look for answers
And they do not seem to come
Why did this all happen?
How could it become undone?
Often there are no answers
To the mysteries of life
Though you search for understanding
For the pain, the tears and strife
You gave your heart to someone
Your trusted them with its care
They willingly accepted it
It was the best that you could share
You took your heart from your chest
And wrapped it in dreams of two
You gently placed it in their hands
You gave away the gift of you
The journey of hopes and wishes began
But somewhere along the way
Your gift was taken for granted
And your heart was cast away
It crashed to the ground and shattered
The pain stung your eyes with tears
How I will recover from this, you thought
The deep pain, the hurt and the fears
The heart is such a fragile thing
Fragile but yet so strong
Even filled with cracks and breaks
It continues to beat on
Where do broken hearts go?
When the ache you cannot bear
The pieces of heart go to Heaven
For the Angels to repair
How do I know all this you ask?
The despair, hurt, and the pain
Because my heart has gone to Heaven
It came back scarred, but whole again.
The pain of heart-break is not something within itself I can say I am grateful for. However, I am clearly grateful for what this cumulative hurting taught me. The discomfort and discord of pain kneaded my heart like a bread maker does dough. A baker’s kneading warms and stretches a mixture into a springy and elastic dough. If not kneaded enough, it will collapse, leaving a heavy and dense loaf that can be hard almost like a rock.
And so it has been with me as the breaking of my heart has molded, strengthened and shaped my ability to love. My gratitude for those teachings is true and genuine. I only hope the major portion of that education are behind me.
A final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works.