HOW MANY WAYS CAN A HEART BREAK? by Edith Lazenby

I was moved by a couple of folk to write this poem, as well as my own sense of loss…

Grief and I are close friends. When I stop crying I know that is when I need to worry. Lately life threw me a curve ball but all will work out, as it always does.

I hold faith close to my heart and believe in prayer.

So I offer this up, because we all know what heartbreak is like and getting up again is the hard part when we want to hide and let go of all.

~Art by by Johann Heinrich Füssli~

How Many Ways Can a Heart Break?

Loss wears an odd face.

It is my newest friend

Whose toddler died

While he was 180 miles away.

It is watching the man I love

Make love to another woman,

Night after night.

It is loving a baby I didn’t have

But was so close it should’ve

Been mine.

It is having love tease you into believing

This one man will hold your heart

Until he breaks it.

It is having every man you ever tried

To love leave you alone, again,

With your cat and television.

It is your dad caring for his wife

Who has no more memory,

And only a moment she cannot share.

It is losing the only job you ever knew

To bullies and believing justice wins

To learn at 60 life isn’t fair.

It is losing your mind and everything

That held truth to insanity

And facing the one fear

Besides death that stalks

All but only chooses a few.

Life is not fair.

Hearts break in a million ways.

Being alone with your beloved

Is like an embrace you cannot feel.

Embracing the good with the bad,

Knowing it’s all a journey,

Hoping you can always cry

Because then you can laugh,

Keeping the heart open

When it wants to close,

That’s courage.

I have fallen a thousand ways.

And I have only gotten up one way:

Finding my feet and looking inside

To know my heart will heal

If I stand up, one more time,

Brush myself off and take what’s hopeless

And let it die so something new can be born,

Alive and kicking, like the child I never had

But learning it’s the love I give that bears life

Even when all I feel inside is dead.

Edith Lazenby: “I love to write. I began writing poetry in elementary school. Sometimes I write poetry daily, other times not. I adore Mary Oliver, her way of embracing the light while acknowledging the darkness. I teach yoga full time and find the practice has grounded me deeper in my body and heart and helped me move closer to what I call spirit. I also now edit for Elephant Journal and write for them as well. I live with my husband, who is my best friend, and 4 kitties. Life holds challenges yet with time I feel better able to live in the moment, moment by moment. All great teachers teach presence. I find each day is a lesson in being. The process of writing holds me and I find the craft teaches me something new each time. You may visit my blog here.

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience. Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with. I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night. I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me slow down until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without

Journey of the Heart

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