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Sick heart
The invasion was subtle at first,
charts and maps with lines drawn on it,
the navigation slow and our compass
pointing ‘right’ – it all made sense when
we contemplated, but as time moved
inexorably to the point,
I was brought up short and left alone,
a single soldier to hold the fort; but it was
a subtle maneuver, so friendly
and so fun at first glance, until I saw
the invasion coming:
and there was no stopping…
my heart is sick, I think to myself, so
I retreat further in – first the house,
then my room, then an even smaller space
until my mind outside refused to activate;
I spent days in a silent agony,
feeling baited and betrayed, always
slinking around my own sanctuary,
and trying to not admit to that pain—
but my heart is sick, I have a right, I think,
and though my mind agrees and
the compass is reset: I know
that I’ve trapped myself… where, then,
is sanctuary?
is only my own mind left to me?
I’ve left by choice and by force of fate,
and I have learned to let go
but when even the little things are touched,
through simple tactless ignorance,
I say: my heart is sick,
I can take no more of this, and I
try to escape… my shelter is shrinking,
my heart is twisting in its weakened state
and I run until I can run no more, and
I can only hope that my new sanctuary
is more bearable than the one I’ve abandoned…
I can only hope that my heart is safe,
in a place where healing can come
and where my shelter is more than a place,
rather, somewhere I can call home.