I Send My Heart

I stood in front of that black-limned door-

I heard the bolts thrown open

I heard the locks click

I heard the un-used hinges squeal.

 

I stood there, held captive, against my will

As that door swung open

And I looked inside

And beheld the soul-searing blackness within

And I trembled.

 

I heard the howls and wails

Of Grief and Anguish

I heard the cries of Fear

And Loneliness and Rage.

 

The cold winds foul with Sadness

Cutting with icy fingers of Pain

Rushed by my face

And swirled around me

And tears bled from my eyes.

 

I stood there, terrified, frozen

And then

An ageless endless eternity later

Before I had to step inside

The door slammed shut in front of me.

 

Blinded by tears I heard the crash

And fell to the floor, huddled in exhausted relief

Thanking the God of creation

And all who would hear

That I had not had to step inside.

 

I have turned my back on that door

And tried to forget that it is there

But sometimes I feel a cold draft

On the back of my neck

And I know, that having been opened once,

It is not so securely locked as it was before

And I shudder.

 

I send my love through that crack

That hairline crack that the draft seeps through

I send my heart through

To those

Who had to step through that door

To the wailing darkness inside.

And I pray that they will not be lost

But will find their way through

The Grief and Pain

To the door that

Lies on the other side.

To Life.

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5 thoughts on “I Send My Heart”

  1. I am not so sure that the other side of the door is filled with black oblivion Jane. It is the living, who have to stay and go on living who must find ways to rest in peace. Whatever! This is a most potent, thought provoking piece. I am so pleased that you posted it here.

  2. It is the living that I see as having to pass through that door into the darkness of grief. I see those who have passed on, the ones we have lost, as being in the Light and beyond all pain and sorrow. This poem is about something that I felt several years ago when my husband had a heart attack, which he has recovered from. This is not something I have ever expressed much- not to my husband, especially, as the whole thing certainly was not anything he had planned. It felt good to put it down here. I was snatched back from that brink, and so I send all my heart out to those who were not, and are grieving and lonely.

  3. Thanks for your words/thoughts on this difficult subject. I do tend to focus on the poem “Clouds” by Rupert Brooke, I’ve copied to the Temple here. This brings me a great deal of solace. Heather has said some wise things too, above. 😉

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