I Submit to You This Broken Heart

I submit to you this broken heart.

A year ago, I (unintentionallysnowball downhill!) kicked a little snowball down a snowy hill, and I discovered how cold and mean life can be.

I am awfully terrible at telling personal stories, and since this story has intertwined a few other hearts of people I love, I am not going to go into details. It is a story of how I lost “faith.”

Also the story includes some people I freely admit I hate. And I hate even thinking about them so I am not going to go there.

I don’t think I could backtrack over that ugly place anyway, in a way that makes sense to anyone. Except to say that I learned the hard way that trust and betrayal are a hair’s breadth apart. And they are hopelessly entangled with my  own fears, and also my perception of the world  anyway.

I know, my heart has driven me down irrational backroads, with so many jarring and messy potholes, when it comes to “faith” I don’t know where I am anymore.

And none of this means anything to any of you. It’s personal. I don’t even know why I bother to write about it, except I can’t believe that, one year later, I am still so sad to have gotten lost.

I had an old boyfriend once upon a time. I remember it took a long time, too, for me to realize he was no good for me. He was a soul-eater, a life-sucker, a love-hog. It took years, even after I left him, for the sheen to wear off. But when it did, it was OVER. Now I look back on that time and have no sensory recall of the love. I have memories, but the feelings are gone.

This is not the case with most others I have loved and left behind. It’s true. I am notorious for revisiting my memories of love, polishing them off and enjoying their reflective sunshine. Old lovers have claimed folding chairs in the backyard of my memory. They are now most excellent old friends, and I revel those sunny gardens.

I think, if someone tries, really tries, to love you, then the love carries on. Forgiveness happens. Even if all they ever did with you was make mistakes or bumble around or turn corners when you weren’t looking.

I also think, sometimes we think people care about us, and they just plain don’t. We believe we are following after them, but all we are doing is chasing a shadow.

I’ve given a lot of that love, and I know I have been the shadow in my time, too.

Advice

My hazard wouldn’t be yours, not ever;
But every doom, like a hazelnut, comes down
To its own worm. So I am rocking here
Like any granny with her apron over her head
Saying, lordy me. It’s my trouble.
There’s nothing to be learned this way.
If I heard a girl crying help
I would go to save her;
But you hardly ever hear those words.
Dear children,
You must try to say
Something when you are in need.
Don’t confuse hunger with greed;
And don’t wait until you are dead.

— by Ruth Stone

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Elizabeth Howard

Elizabeth writes literary non-fiction, haiku, cultural rants, and Demand Poetry in order to forward the cause of beautiful writing. She teaches and speaks about the rhetorical impact of beautiful writing. A recent transplant to Connecticut, she calls London, Kansas City, and Iowa home. 

  4 comments for “I Submit to You This Broken Heart

  1. Mary Sherman
    March 10, 2013 at 3:24 pm

    wow my friend…..so many lines I love in your so-heart-filled post…
    …old lovers have claimed folding chairs….my heart has driven me down emotional backroads.
    And Ruth’s poem….so honest!
    So many themes Elizabeth….all at the core of what the hell we’re doing here.
    Big hugs
    Mary

    • March 10, 2013 at 5:34 pm

      Thank you Mary… I am not sure WHAT is going on but I very better having written it.

  2. March 12, 2013 at 12:59 pm

    I have found that there are surprising times when you start a blog and it strikes a chord you were not expecting. Moments of innward thinking and the more you writ the more you are opening up folders you have not opened for a long long time.

    Then comes a point when you are starting to wonder if this is the right venue? Should I be typing this? But if you stop the folder closes so you continue and deeper and deeper you go.

    Finally you come out of your trance exhausted, perplexed, wondering if you should just delete the entire post?

    Fuck it – you hit enter and move on with your life.

    • March 12, 2013 at 6:37 pm

      That’s how I felt Rod! Thank you! XO

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