This Heart...

This heart breaks slowly

Like

The crack in a windshield

Spreading with frost

And time

No way to stop

The inevitable movement

Of the hairline fracture

Creeping

In front of your very eyes

This heart

Yields slowly

To the unexpected

Yet expected results

Of being hit by a rock

A pebble

or

A stone

At first

Barely noticeable

Except to those who are

Front and center for the ride

But with time

And age

The breakage marches

Reacting

 To the wind chill factors of life

Distracting my view

Pulling my attention

From the highway

Causing a hazard

Making me anxious

Until

Finally

Needing to be totally replaced

This heart

Needs replacing

Like so many others

That have incurred injury

And suffered quietly

And unbearably

Until

One day

A sacred hand

Full of mercy

Removes the damaged glass filled heart

And gives me

A brand new view…

                                                   Bonita Y. Jones “This heart” ©