How Many Times Can The Heart Break? Poem by Sheena Blackhall

It is hard to be human.

When I was young I followed a flowery road
A riot of colour and paint. I loved it deeply and well
And then it was blocked, my Eden, my lovely future
Its dreams, thrown out with the trash.
That was a long bleeding, a running sore that leaves
Its weeping scars to this very day

It is hard to be human.

Once I birthed a dead love. I blew and blew into its mouth
I willed. I prayed it to live. It lay there all limp and white
A guilt, a despair

It is hard to be human

When they dug my grandmother into the sod
Like a rotten potato, it rained like Heaven was crying
That first night without her, I lay for long in the dark
Thinking of her in the cold,
The warmth of her touch, a-missing.

It is hard to be human

To know when to close a door
When to say ‘Enough'
When others are in the room
The word will damage.

Consider the insect trapped beneath a stone
Consider the fish, marooned in a shrinking pond
How Many Times Can the Heart Break?

It is hard to be human.