How I Healed My Broken Heart

How does one heart heal?

To whom does one turn to?

The cardiologist said there was nothing broken,

But I knew that wasn't true.

For I could feel the crack every day;

Every moment that I was awake;

And even my sleep kept careful guard

Watching over this precious break.

I asked the priest for a blessing,

He offered a pitiful prayer.

I sat in church and talked with God,

My heart exposed and bare.

I went to see a healer.

She touched my body and said,

"There's nothing wrong with your Chakras…

It must be in your head."

I met a fine psychiatrist

And lay down on his couch;

I argued it wasn't my childhood-

That much I can vouch.

I joined up with a Shaman;

We danced all through the night.

But, even his strong medicine

Couldn't make it right.

I sat alone in the quiet

Wanting only a moments rest;

A movement soft as angel's wings

Fluttered in my chest.

A blanket of peace enveloped me

As tears came to my eyes.

"So, this is how a heart heals," I thought,

"I didn't realize."

Original poem by Denise Handlon All rights reserved. No portion of this poem may be used without the written permission of the author.

The heartache began first, but the question soon followed. Staying with the experience, as I have been taught to do on my spiritual path, it felt like a gaping hole, dark and cold. As the mind recoiled I became curious as to how long it would take to heal a broken heart and what the process was.

The creativity stream occurred next and I allowed the question, 'how does a heart heal' to simmer on the back burner of my mind, occasionally playing with rhyme. One of the areas of playfulness that I noticed, and immediately engaged in, was the many types of healers and what their modus operandi would be. It became a delightful encounter to imagine what a particular healer would offer and my response to it.

In the end it is obvious that the answers, as well as the work, lie within our own selves. It is part of my spiritual practice to be present to the experience no matter what it is; to see it to its conclusion. More often than not, as was in this case, the end result is filled with love.

This poem was started in March, 2011. It began as awareness of an experience within the body and formulated itself into a question. The question evolved into a poem. Although the topic is serious and could be twisted into something dark and dismal, there is a lightheartedness that prevailed here. The stanzas were a work in progress for several months-writing, resting, working, pausing, and then resuming the process. When the final word was written I allowed it to have some space before I picked it up once more to review it. In the end, I was satisfied with the final results in August 2011.