Haven With A Heartbeat

The last time hope cracked my heart in twain,
I knelt beside its shards, hands unskilled—
What red threads can stitch through the heartache’s pain?
Each ruin, with a scar that time no longer filled.
I tried—I tried—O foolish, faithful art!
To seal the cracks with filling made of faith,
But hearts, once fractured, do not play their part
Without the hollow whisperings through the deep swathe.
And so—thou came, with a soul not seeking praise,
And placed thy heart within my trembling hand—
A quiet gift, as tender as the gaze
Of the sun on the hills when dusk doth kiss the land.
Not mine, is this pulse—but it is warm enough to keep
The biting pains from swallowing my sleep.
Oh did your chest become a chapel I could flee—
A refuge where the griefs of past unspoke
Where for once, I felt at peace – drifting endlessly,
Where I saw love weave blankets from the words we broke.
What’s broken stays thus—like the earth in storm—
But even ruins blush warm in the monumental sun.
With you, I fashioned something new; something warm—
Like the hearth that blazes through all winters.
I call it home—though with no walls nor door nor bed—
But thou, my haven, is where my screaming fears went dead.