untitled

i had thought
if only i could reach into my chest
and pull out my heart
i could examine it
bloody in my hands
and understand what it is feeling
the condition of an apparently
unstable organ

whether it is bruising or bruised
whether it is breaking or broken
whether it is scarring or scarred
whether it is mending or mended

but so bloody in my hands it is
i cannot make out if it were
just tenderly crushed
or grievously bleeding
it merely sits there
beating by its lonesome
unwashed by tears
my eyes cannot shed

and then i realize
it does not matter
bruised or broken
scarred or mended
it nevertheless beats rhythmically
and still is beating
and still is beating

so i thank you for that
thank you
for waking me up
to life