In the night’s gentle hour when the sounds of life have eased into a murmur and the whispered conspiracies between crickets is dulled by the approach of dew. I lie awake and listen to my heart beat attempting to catch the dissonance. I strain to hear the sound which surely must accompany this fractured and afflicted harmonium.

How often can a heart break before it is completely shattered?

As the dove’s tender lament fades into the deeper darkness, the night breathes in the rustle of leaves. A lonely tree frog chirps a question and then is silent. I remember each someone who mattered and is lost, the love that no longer has a resting place drifts about me like a bewildered moth.

Where do you put the love that’s left over?

In the cool before dawn gathers the stars and hides them away, a cock crows in anticipation of what will come next, greedy for the morning and the warmth of a sunrise. I lie awake and listen to my heart break.

I hear the song of tears in each beating moment, the music of grief plays with each pulsing loss.

When does the pain fade with the night,

when does the love find its quiet rest,

when does the sorrow grow still with the morning

and when will this heart

be whole at last.