when i was born there was a hole in my Heart
parents worried at gaspingly indigo turn
“help doctor please – look he’s falling apart”
a candlewick lit, doused for fast burn.
they peered inside me and plotted a path
chiselled an entry, sent in the fixers
who found the gap and did their math
brought in cement bricks & mixers
blocked the space up with a tall wide wall
satisfied said “yeh that should hold”
awoke me to ask then if i could recall
ever feeling just so good or so bold?
and i did – it was great (for a bagful of years)
run & jump breathe & pump normal again
but nothing corrodes like blood-mingled tears
crumbling partition here there bits – then
the worst came to worst without even collapse
as i vomited wept & shat redsanguine flood
wall still intact all i had was perhaps
thing meant to save me sat killing me: –dud.
it occurred that my jitterkid holehearted mode
was not one might with mere constructs be cured
that my body could manage blue breathless & cold
allow erosion – this Revelation – interred
seemingly (slowly) plugged unhealthy leaks
once i understood what it was made of – Love:
natural as eyeballs bones trees mountainpeaks
hard as a diamond, pure, true as a dove;
joyfully messily it holding there placed
renders fossilized scab of manmade dam
which fades away, its contours traced
in porous reminder of who, broken, i am.
’twould be foolish to claim that harmony such as was found
by some grand feat i performed arcane secret i knew
no – what keeps me Alive is my feet on the ground
as i walk truthfully, peacefully, with & to You.
Isaac Stovell is a native and student of Sheffield still trying to figure out how best to balance a creative life with an enjoyable research day job. He has been published in Riggwelter Press, and alongside poetry is working on a novel, called The Improbable Interplanetary Revolutions of Naomi Moss.
Our JustGiving page is open for donations to the Children’s Heart Surgery Fund – no amount is too small if you feel moved to support.