This is the first half of an intertwined pair of poems. It is pain that brought about this one, and healing that bore the second. But without the injury, there could have been no recovery.
How can a heart so open
be so empty?
Welcoming the universe,
then watching it flee.
A glass tear trickles down,
a flood stopped at its start.
A wound, a yearning, an ache;
each from a broken heart.
Oh, my heart was opened wide,
and that is far the worse:
you cannot break a heart
unless it's opened first.
~David Jamison~
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