When your heart is broken it doesn’t fall apart. Instead it is dismantled into jaggedly shaped pieces which begin to chafe against one another, causing a deep-rooted pain which splurges from deep within to cover the extremities of the muscle. The heart keeps pumping and circulating blood, life, yet each contraction jolts searing white pain throughout the body, drawing even the far forgotten toes to the fine hair follicles into a cramped contortion of unified pain. A breaking heart however, is the clearest example of a birthed passion, a very present compassion. As the heart chafes against itself the mind comes alongside the cause of heart-break and dwells with it in a shared suffering. And that is where tenacity comes into play. The ability to latch on to what your heart is broken for, and regardless of whether public opinion is ready to hear it or not, to plough through and have your voice, your hurt, aired. A broken heart is too readily belittled into a romantic, self-absorbed caricature. A true heart that breaks, is shattered through the observation and experience of injustice, of fear, of evil in all its inglorious nature; and the blood that spills forth like Teresa’s leather hide soles, does so, because it believes with every pulse redemption can be found. Life can be reclaimed, healing can be attained.
#213 ~ Tenacity