When the heart breaks

When the heart breaks do not cover it,
but leave the wound open, raw, exposed
to the light and the healing sun, ready,
to be warmed from the chill of pain,

soothed by the breath of compassion,
touched by the kisses of caring and
of love, and able to speak what it has
known, and of that which it hopes will

be, when the day comes, for the weeping
edges of gaping sore to be taken tenderly,
by time, wisdom, and eternal hope, and
held in place, secure, comforted, certain

that everything must, can and will, heal,
and it will mend more quickly and more
surely if it is seen, honoured, recognised
for what it has become; for what it needed

to be,  as the experience destiny offered,
than if it were hidden, unknown, denied
and left in dark, mortal, festering.