My Newly Broken Heart

At first it was just a stretching, pulling, relaxing and constriction…the natural and nauseating beginning pains of child birth.  The way it is supposed to be. No child would stay in the womb forever…no mother would want it so.

This separation begins, it pulls and stretches until she slips free and with all that new beginning, there is a new breaking of my heart.

It's a good broken, a necessary broken, to cleave you must first be broken kind of broken... pieces bond together as again and again she latches on for nourishment. My soldered heart, beating stronger in this new bond.....

I stare at her grey eyes...

                        and I can't imagine how....

                                        her flesh came from my flesh, my thoughts, my actions....

How could she not be a piece of my soul?

My life put on hold, my life just begun... to hold and love and continue to create someone from this new piece of my newly broken heart.

The breaking continues, slower now, but seems so fast as one moment right after another she chooses her path, breaking and cleaving only to sever again.

She fails, and we break together. We share the pieces of our always breaking hearts and build again something different, maybe stronger.

She succeeds, and my heart bursts into a billion new pieces of joy and she scoops it up and adds it to her own. 

And that bond heart is new and sinewy and strong and it stretches and somehow is still a part of me and I can't help but hold it close. Like the newbie I am, I hold too tight and she pulls even harder until I let go too soon and she falls slipping through my clenched fingertips. We pick up and brush off and patch up and move on. Constantly recreating as we learn that whatever she is, she is still a part of me to hold with open hands.

Day after day she builds her own heart, beating strong and sure and sometimes scared. She takes pieces from here and pieces from there, some light and some dark, building and breaking, blood flowing with passion and poison.

 She doesn't give up, although sometimes I think she has, my preference for speed threatening to rush what can't be rushed. Even that speed she must have a piece of... that impatience that I'm still working out of my own heart...she takes that too, and leaps and falls maimed... but leaps again.

I feel her heart even when I can’t see her; her fears and hurts, jagged lacerations in my own heart, telling me she is breaking. I can't fix her, she rightly claimed that piece for herself, it's natural and nauseating....but assuredly, the broken pieces drum the rhythm that she came from something stronger and infinitely sure... 

and we bond through the broken
both cleaving, leaning
on the Infinite Broken Heart.

Then without warning she makes that final tug and I feel the wind sucked out of me as my whole body contracts and on its own, pushes her out. It should be familiar....

...no child would stay in womb forever, no mother would want it so...

but the pain is raw and I am left with open, empty hands as this time, she bonds with someone new.

Is this what joy is?

My heart misses her pieces everyday and breaks a little more as I try to find all the pieces to build a whole heart. It works.... mostly, and life drums on and my blood pumps through my veins and my smile is still there...but barely. 

I do smile... we share so many heart pieces....I smile because I know she is a part of me still and someday....when she feels that first stretching and pulling and inevitable first tear, 

I will feel it too...

and my heart will gladly break again for her newly broken heart.