November 25, 2005
Hurt

He looked across the floor,
But was not overwhelmed.
He slowly bent to pick up,
The pieces that were there.
I could not believe it as I watched
For he worked so patiently.
With the tenderness of a child
He stuck those pieces into a ball
And then to my amazement,
He took out a needle and thread.
Slowly he weaved it in and out,
I cringed because it hurt.
What was he doing to me?
What right did he have to touch me,
To cause me pain?
I watched him closely and flinched.
It hurt so much and I cried.
Then I looked on in shock,
For the heart that he held
Was whole again.
He had stitched it back together.
While healing takes time,
And can sometimes be painful,
It works when it's with him.