I thought for sure God had left me
when he laid his hand across my chest
and pressed in--what a peculiar feeling,
of hurting, but not really hurting, of
breathing, but not really breathing,
I laid there barely gasping, fingers
rapping against my sternum,
trying to break through to
hold my heart, just to hold
it, just to pull the weeds
from their vice grip and
feel it quiver, then quake,
then
roar.