Image: Heart That Works for Repair
© Jan Richardson
I’m not sure I have words yet for all that I was thinking as I created this artwork. I can say, though, that it had to do with fragility and rending, with grace and with hope, and with the heart’s astonishing capacity to keep beating, to keep growing larger, to keep working for repair. I thought about the art of visible mending and how our wounds become part of the wholeness of our story. I thought also, as always, about those whose hearts have newly broken since this time last year, as well as those who have lived in and with and through the brokenness for a long time. For all who love and ache and love still, this blessing is for you. Every single day.
Blessing for the Brokenhearted
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
—Henry David Thoreau
Let us agree
for now
that we will not say
the breaking
makes us stronger
or that it is better
to have this pain
than to have done
without this love.
Let us promise
we will not
tell ourselves
time will heal
the wound,
when every day
our waking
opens it anew.
Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this—
as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it,
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still,
as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us
nonetheless.
—Jan Richardson
from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief
P.S. For reflections for Transfiguration Sunday, visit Transfiguration Sunday: When Glory.
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