Break (a poem)

3 of swordsWhen you remember
your heart is a muscle
not fragile, spun glass
will you understand
the strength of it

Not a vault
Not a prison but
an origin
a fount
a source of
passion, love, longing, dedication

Nothing so valuable
so driven
could be be contained by anything so brittle
Who could want such a heart?
So fragile, it fears to beat
least it break

Only false feeling
can be contained by
something so delicate
Destined to shatter of its own weight;
false feeling weighs heavy
Strength is truth, light as a feather

An avenue of the heart ends
try another
Passion must have direction
or stagnate and die
Remains turn to shards
the beginnings of a glass heart

My muscle is a fist,
aim is always true
If I could, I would smash it into you
An avenue closes
I break through
I break through

Break (a poem)
Christina Schmidt, MA