The Broken Heart LbNA # 35373
|Placed Date||Sep 22 2007|
A heart laden with sorrow finds no comfort in sleep . . . So I wander.
Down the street to the square. Itís closing time and the people pour out into the street, groups laughing loudly, couples hand-in-hand. I try to ignore them in passing. I know not of the happiness they share. Leaving the street lights for the shadow of the tree canopy, I continue down the path. Lights of cars streak past overhead. The street lamp above casts a jagged shadow on the path ahead of me.
I reach the bottom. Which way to go? Nothing seems right, so why go that way. I turn again to cross the bridge. The boards sound hollow beneath my feet. I stop half way to look out over the water, feeling the bridge sway ever so slightly. The sky is clear, the stars filling my view as I reflect on what she said. How empty those words made me feel. Why does she still hold onto him, so far away, never speaking a word of him at any time? How was I supposed to know? I look down past the cable support at the seemingly motionless water only betrayed by the small patches of foam drifting away from me.
I continue on, turning right at the bridgeís end, onto the path. For the second time tonight, emotions overtake me. Tears fill my eyes blurring the lamp lights illuminating the road. I hear the soft tumble of the falls in the distance. I often seek the water to escape from life. So I head out onto the platform to sit and absorb the tranquility of the cascading waters. My legs dangling over the side, head in my hands, I stare down at the water hoping the gentle echoing will drown out the conversations going through in my head. The sounds may be washed out, but the visions and feelings are still strong. That beautiful laugh or flirtatious glance and then that first kiss. Why did she hesitate? I know she has feelings for me. I could sense it through her lips. Yet Iím not the one she wants to be with. If that is so, then I have no use for this heart inside me.
I return to the path, the lamp directly in front of me blurred more than before. I walk to the rock behind it and head up to the left. Thereís an easier way further down the road, but Iím numb to the sting of the thorns. Up the incline, between the two large formations. At the path, I turn to the formation on my left. Reaching behind the young tree, I tuck my broken heart between the rocks. In time it may heal . . .
but the scar will remain.