Holding a Heart

It's tough to hold the pieces
of a shattered heart.
They shift,
slip between fingers,
evade containment.
Too many to safely hold--
Don't try.

How could you steer this ship
back into uncharted waters
with full knowledge
that you'd be leaving the helm?

I'd shut my heart to you,
set it aside,
and closed the box
that held it.
You reopened it--
for what purpose?

Confusion works
as an excuse.
Brokenness too.
But the guilt you've voiced
the glimmer of awareness,
of self-centeredness,
calls all excuses
into question.

How could you take me
from darkness
to light
and back again?
Where is the safe, warm feeling
that should have come with love?

You're losing me
to your own brand of darkness
And it's a damn shame.

No one wins.
It's not even a draw.

Like a boat
lying at mooring
bow against the current,
like eider ducks
rafted together
swimming upstream,
like seagull sentinels
lining rooftops,

I wait.

No forward motion
No chance for retreat
Just bobbing idly
in time to the waves
or standing still
in rooftop sunshine
waiting for release.

Maybe it's time
to put on a captain's hat
and woman the helm.