Heartwood

You carved your silent words on this damp wood.

A sharp scalpel was your tool.

And somehow,

With the feelings you roused in me,

There was no safe blood,

Flowing out in horror,

Screaming meaninglessly for fixtures –

To fix you, to fix me...

Just scarlet scars,

Just a wooden heart,

Burdened by all the fault that you fill it with.

Burdened by all the ways,

You work to make it cry.

And the latest picture,

Is of the skies’ tears,

On the growth rings,

Of this broken tree -

(That is) Sobbing softly…

Even yet,

It is a stump rooted in soil,

In granules of surviving hope and acceptance,

Wetted with my tears of love and surrender.

This wooden heart will stay,

Rooted in love,

Nursing its way to health,

To love you,

To forgive you.