“Strange how we decorate pain.”
― Margaret Atwood
A child carries a broken heart a certain way
much differently than an old man can
he does not hide it behind a curtain nor door
where no one else is allowed to stand
he bravely holds it out in the open
bare like feet out in the rain
stepping out in the puddled path
vulnerable yet willing to show the pain
for a broken heart can hold so many things
It can take in all that is hurt and lost
keeping it safe and nestled close
like a sheltered bird at freedom’s cost
the homeless sleep there with nowhere else to rest
how do you send away such a hurting soul?
the walls are lined with a menagerie of relics
heavy with the silence
of tales untold
and a child will tell and sing the songs
with every fall that scrapes his knees and heart
but with time he learns to hush the cry
like an old man who cannot hear the breaking news at dark
for the fool will hold on like a warden and his keys
never letting go of hurt till the day he dies
but the wiser one will unlock the cage
and he will simply let that birdy fly!
