A Cry of Relief

for broken hearts

In this garden
that never grew,
I lay to rest

in the nest
of pain too heavy
and bleak

I am weak
I am wet
of tears

they leak
and leak
from a well

in which I drink.
Halt the think
so being meets me

and I know
in this soil
are seeds

harboring the dark
as sanctuary,
as church

holds the weak
and water these seeds
with relief. 

---

I wrote this poem on my birthday last year. I was sitting in my garden, which was rife with overgrown weeds and dead things I never tended in the season prior.

My dear friend and roommate at the time had set up a little nest for me in the north corner, with a lounge chair, lots of blankets, and my journal. I was a complete and utter mess.

My boyfriend had just broken up with me. It was a transatlantic relationship and he was set to