Living by Breaking

Like any other muscle,
the heart, when injured,
will clench. And stay that way

for a long, long time. Mostly likely
past the time of usefulness.
But when it relaxes again,

perhaps because it has been touched
in just the right way, or perhaps
just because it is exhausted

with its own clenching, well then
it is like when the sun hits the forest
in late morning and releases the scent

of pine and greening leaves.
And it is like when you walk past a spring
and a dozen blue butterflies all brush

you with their wings, a feeling so impossibly
soft and tender that you cannot help
but let the heart stay open, though you know

it will be wounded again. It is not
the heart in the end that matters.
It is the love.

~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer