To My Heart:
You are the hardest worker I know. Pumping oxygen rich blood to all my cells, keeping me alive and whole, you perform your task unfailingly. Conducting operations primarily undercover, you beat the drum of my life with precision and persistence. Until you skip a beat in excitement or pound with fear, your efforts escape my notice.
Broken, bruised and battered last year, you took on a lot of additional responsibility for my well-being. You cracked in half. Contracted in pain. Squeezed until there was nothing left inside to compress.
Then gradually, moment-by-moment, hour-by-hour, day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month, you ever so gently began to expand again. The wound progressively mending, new tissue emerging. Old pain dissolving. New life beginning. I did not witness your handiwork. I felt no immediate effects. No, your craft is far too subtle and deep to ever be a big showy production in full view of the conscious mind.
It is true that you bear a scar where that deep cut used to be, but rather than an unsightly reminder, it is beautiful to behold. Because it is the mark of healing. A testament to what it means to overcome.
Yes, the scar still hurts sometimes in the tender spots, but those moments of pain are less intense and far more fleeting. Love, patience and hope massage the remaining aches away.
I look at you in wonder now: resilient, strong, loving and open once again. A force to be reckoned with.
You are a miracle.
I bow in gratitude.
To My Heart.