The key
was hiding on a chain
against my heart.
I always believed my spirit was damaged
and that you had damaged it.
As a child,
as a teenager,
relentlessly.
The evidence was in my fear.
It was in my despair.
It was in my loneliness.
The key
was hiding on a chain
against my heart.
When you died suddenly
I was in shock.
Shaking
like I never
would get warm again.
Sitting outside
just to breathe,
my throat so tight.
How can you be gone?
How can you now tell me
you love me?
That you understand
how much you have hurt me?
The key
was hiding on a chain
against my heart.
I had a sinking feeling
you took something important from me.
Something deeper than
not seeing me.
I was falling apart,
my mind crumbling,
but didn’t understand why.
My body began failing.
Believing I was always two steps behind
an imagined whole self,
running to catch up,
I pushed myself too hard.
The key
was hiding on a chain
against my heart.
As my body was forced to rest,
my mind began to settle.
I was feeling again,
barbed edges
a welcome sensation against my heart.
A part of me could forgive you.
I realized I’ve always loved you,
always needed your love.
That’s why you could hurt me so much.
I could see you again
as a person who suffered.
A father, a son, a brother.
I could see you as a teacher.
Your lessons hurt,
but there’s wisdom in them.
Is that a key
hiding on a chain
against my heart?
Its chain presses against me,
all of the links
now in plain view.
The breaking open begins with a thought.
Do some of my experiences
sprout from how I view myself?
If so, what do I believe?
It comes to me almost immediately:
I believe that I'm broken.
Tears flow in spirals
around the truth.
Then a quiet defiance.
Am I really broken?
It feels dangerous.
(Too late, the thought is loose)
A key
is hanging on the chain
against my heart!
I understand for the first time
what you’ve taken from me.
I believe my psyche
is permanently broken.
But at the same time
I believe you can make me whole again.
All my life I believed
you were my key.
When you died,
my hope of transformation
died with you.
It has taken me eleven years to understand
why your death
crippled my footing.
It has taken me my whole life to realize
I was never broken.
I had the key all along.
I take the key
hanging on the chain
against my heart.
The chain loose
and dangling down free from my palm.
The key’s warmth
comforting against my skin.
I close my eyes
and take a deep breath
as I imagine facing you,
my key shining.
You were never my key.
I am the key.
The key is my heart.
It knows
you were so hurt,
you could no longer
be there for others.
You were too busy surviving.
He nods.
I’m sorry for your suffering.
I understand
because I’ve been there.
I’m sorry your time was cut short.
I still see your potential
hugging you like an aura.
But this chain isn’t mine,
it’s yours.
I’m giving it back to you.
He accepts it
with outstretched hand,
studying it for a moment.
Then he turns and leaves,
dropping the chain,
both hands free to feel
that a key
is hiding on a chain
against his heart.
This poem is part of Elemental You, a poetry collection about becoming whole.
✿ Vintage key resting on antique books by Galina Ortlieb via Pexels.